You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day.104 nautical miles to go. (This may be updated as the day goes on.)

Roz’s latest Podcast: Sharky McShark is now live.

Final Philosophy Friday

This will, barring unforeseen disasters, be my last Philosophy Friday blog from the Indian Ocean. I wish that I could, like a guru returning from the desert/wilderness/tree, I could get up on my proverbial soapbox and reveal the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

Unfortunately, that is beyond my pay grade, and most certainly beyond my mental or spiritual capabilities. Additionally, we may have to accept that there is no single, simple, all-encompassing answer… apart from “42″, of course. Life is just not that neat and tidy – and even if it was, we humans would inevitably find a way to make it more complicated.

Even though our collaborative musings over the last 5 months may not have led us to any dazzling new revelations, I hope that they have, at least, made us all look at things a bit more closely and with a more inquiring mind. They certainly have done for me. It has stretched my ocean-addled mind to try and articulate some of my ideas, and your feedback has always provided me with food for thought.

I’m not going to try and speak for all of us, as it will only get me into trouble, but i would like to try and reach some tentative conclusions from our blog-based dialogue. There follows a summary of what I have been trying to say, combined with new ideas that have come from your comments.

For whatever quirk of evolutionary dynamics, we humans have developed an ability to consider the future. That future is not predetermined, but is created through the choices that we make every day. Some of those choices are made consciously, although many are made passively or unthinkingly or “because we’ve always done it that way”.

Given our present situation as an increasingly endangered species – mostly through poor choices by ourselves and our predecessors – it would be a really, REALLY good idea if we started exercising our free will to make better choices. Creating this shift in consciousness is challenging, not least because our “free will” is all too often tainted by preconditioning that we may not even be aware of. We can hope that this present era will see an increase in the number of people who do the work necessary to clarify their thoughts and to make wise choices.

The longer we continue to blunder on blindly, the more we are reducing our options for the future. We may end up painting ourselves into such a tight corner that – although we will still have free will – our freedom of action will become seriously constrained. But even if the worst comes to the worst, remember Viktor Frankl in Auschwitz – he had extremely limited options, yet still exercised his free will in his decision to behave always with dignity, humanity, and sympathy. But let’s do what we can now to ensure that we never end up in such a desperate situation. Let’s maintain Ultimate Flexibility regarding our future, keeping our options open until we have better information available.

Change is undoubtedly needed at policy level, but we can each start by exercising our free will carefully and consciously in our own lives to create a new culture that embodies values such as happiness, resilience, and self-reliance. I believe in tipping points: although it may seem impossible to uplift the 7 billion people on the planet, we can start by working on ourselves, and by spreading the word. We have nothing to lose, and potentially much to gain. As the wise man said, “we don’t know enough yet not to be optimistic”. By maintaining a belief that we CAN change the world, we feel engaged and empowered, rather than hopeless and helpless.

And if all else fails, we can do worse than resorting to that other uniquely human trait – a sense of humour. Write a limerick about the end of the world, read The Hitchhiker’s Guide To the Galaxy, or whistle a merry tune. Come what may, you’ve got to laugh. Always look on the bright side of life….!

Sponsored Miles: Thanks to those who had faith that I would get this far: Rich and Jolly King, Larry Grandt, Aimee Divine (for Theo Hoath), Linda and Graham Pugh, Louis Girard, Molly McCallum, Gina Alzate; also to Michelle Driskill-Smith, Wolfgang Stehr and Louis Girard – who expected me to go even further!

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 134 nautical miles to go. (This may be updated as the day goes on.)

Alex Bellini, Ocean Rower

I don’t know how it is in the rest of the world, but in Britain, when you’re learning to drive you have an “L plate” – a square white sign with a red “L” on it that you display somewhere on the car to warn other drivers that they need to make allowances. Once you’ve passed your test, you display a green “L” for a few months to show that you’re still getting the hang of things.

I feel like I will need an “L” plate when I get back onto terra firma. It’s okay for the guys – when they come back off the ocean, many of them are sporting big, bushy beards to hint that they have just returned from deeds of derring-do. The facial hair sets them apart from their less hirsute, landlubbing peers, and also offers an excuse for any slightly odd or antisocial behaviour. It is a badge of honour, indicating that they are not ordinary mortals.

But I will arrive back on dry land looking pretty much the same as I did when I set out, except maybe a bit browner and thinner and more weatherbeaten. I feel that, after all I’ve been through in the last five months, I should look different on the outside to reflect the changes on the inside. But I don’t – or only so’s my mother would notice. My legs will be in need of waxing, but that’s not quite the same as having a big, impressive beard.

People who don’t know me may wonder why I can’t quite walk in a straight line, and might even think that I am drunk rather than suffering from “dock rock” (of course, I may be both). They may think that I am rather socially awkward, rather than just getting the hang of being around people again. They might wonder why I get so excited about things like ice in my drink, or running water, or restaurant menus, or chairs or beds or cars.

I recall, after previous rows, struggling slightly to readjust to land life. I won’t be able to remember what I “normally” eat, or what order I do things in the shower, or how to make small talk. I will find myself wondering, “what would a normal person do in this situation?” and having to fake it till I make it. Everything and everybody seems rather strange for a while.

Maybe I should make myself an “OR” plate to hang around my neck for the first few days. That’s OR for “Ocean Rower”, not “Obviously Retarded”, by the way. Or… maybe not.

Other Stuff:

Remember Col’s superb video of my departure from Fremantle all those months ago? We used a song proposed by Jay as the backing track. Col will be with us once again in Mauritius to record my landfall, and has asked for suggestions for a suitable soundtrack. Ideas, anybody?

Sponsored Miles: Our gratitude to: Julian Gall, Karen Morss, Jennifer Bester, Kamas Industries, Louis Girard, Molly McCallum; also to Greg Danforth and Mark Reid.

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 160 nautical miles to go. (This may be updated as the day goes on.)

Guest Blog: I couldn’t do what I do without the dedicated support of “Team Roz”, the small collection of incredible individuals who day in, day out, help keep the show on the road. This year one in particular has stood out for her unwavering enthusiasm and dedication. Sandra Vaughn is passionate about helping people strategically develop their own dreams with over 20 years of experience in project management, PR, and marketing. Her gift is the ability to see and develop the strengths, gifts, and talents of the individuals, teams, and projects she works with. She has a new book coming out in 2012, “Strategic Planning to Develop Your Dreams”. Here, Sandra shares her uplifting story, and provides information on how to stay connected by joining me on a variety of social media platforms, campaigns, tours, interviews, as our team prepares to celebrate the end of this year’s epic voyage.

Graduating from Medical Marines Torture Unit

After lifesaving surgery and 9 months of intensive ‘torturous’ physical therapy, I learned how to walk again. Two years later, I completed a marathon, exhausted beyond measure with screaming muscles that I didn’t even know existed. Even so, my spirit was on cloud nine and soaring; I was deliriously happy at the thought of how far I had come. Two years earlier I had survived a serious neck injury which left me temporarily paralyzed on my right side and in a wheelchair.

Now, each year I celebrate my ability to walk by completing a 26 Mile Hike Marathon. I returned home from the hike to a voice mail full of messages. The first message was from a dear friend; “Have you heard of Roz Savage? You have to check this woman out! I emailed you an article about her – she SOLO ROWED the Pacific Ocean. AND the Atlantic, too! Really, no motor, no sail, and without a rowing team. Check it out. Give me a call; I want to hear about the hike.”

Celebrating Walking, Mt. Rainier

I had never heard of anyone r-o-w-i-n-g an ocean. Suddenly, my aching muscles didn’t seem to ache quite as bad. How does someone solo ROW an ocean? I read the article about Roz and, like many others, I was inspired by her amazing feat, her journey, and the compelling story of how she came to row oceans. After she had obtained a prestigious law degree, marriage, chased the material dream, bought the home and sports car, and spent 11 years working in London as a management consultant, she still felt like something important was missing in her life.

Roz sat down one day and wrote out two obituaries. The first one she wrote was what she wanted her friends and family to remember her by. She thought of the obituaries that she enjoyed reading of the people she admired. “They were the adventurers and risk-takers, the people who seemed to have lived many lifetimes in one, the people who had tried lots of things, some of them successes, some of them spectacular failures, but at least they’d had the guts to try”, she thought. The second version was, “the obituary that I was heading for – a conventional, ordinary life – pleasant and with its moments of excitement, but always within the safe confines of normality.”

The difference between the two was startling to Roz and clearly she realized she had to make some changes.

Begin with the end in mind.

Having almost arrived at my own obituary two years earlier – as I read Roz’s story, I thought what a brilliant idea; as Stephen Covey would say Roz began with the end in mind. I recalled the night my neurosurgeon stood in my hospital room explaining my options and risks; 1) I could die in surgery (and had to sign a release acknowledging that fact), 2) I could wake up paralyzed from the neck down, 3) take the chance he would fix me, 4) or not have the surgery and eventually be permanently paralyzed with a short life expectancy. I faced my own mortality that night and it changed my life forever. I laid there thinking about all the things I’d done in my life, all the things I wanted to do, and wondered if I had made enough substantial memories to leave my young children and loved ones with in case this was my curtain call.

I survived.

Everyone around me kept saying, “I wonder what incredible things you’re going to do with your life now.” I’d smile at the thought, but had absolutely no idea what it would be. Finally, I sat down and wrote out Roz’s ‘two obituary exercise’ and one of the things it helped me to realize was I didn’t want to continue exhausting my energies and using my skills leading and managing projects that only focused on monetary profits without assessing the damage it could cause to people’s health, the environment, and our quality of life. Instead, I wanted to use my skills to help others realize and reach their dreams. I sent Roz a note congratulating her on accomplishing the Pacific Ocean Row and offered my assistance if she needed it. I heard from Roz within a few days. She informed me that she wanted to row the Indian Ocean in 2011 and I signed on as a member of Team Roz.

What will your legacy be?

Roz inspires me. It’s not easy to talk about Roz and not make her sound like a super hero or a fictional character – after all she has solo rowed the oceans and to put this feat in perspective, women were not even allowed to participate in a marathon event in the Olympics until 1984. As the months passed by, I came to know the woman behind the awards, titles, and super hero status. She is a person just like you and me who decided one day to use her life to make a difference and she realized her dream by taking one oar stroke at a time. When Roz set out to row the Atlantic, they said she was crazy. “She is only 5’ 4”; she isn’t tall enough or strong enough to row an ocean.” But at last, after rowing 15,000 miles, spending over 500 days at sea, and making over 5 million oar strokes, Roz Savage is about to accomplish her goal and set a world record as the first woman to row the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian Oceans. More importantly to Roz, she dedicated her life to a cause that is bigger than a super hero title and vital to our existence. It is her mission to show that each one of us has a role in creating our collective future. Just like her oar-strokes, many tiny actions add up to a big achievement. Roz has proven that anybody can achieve the extraordinary. She illustrates beautifully a favorite quote by my dear friend and former colleague, Bob Moawad. “You can’t leave footprints in the sands of time if you’re sitting on your butt. And who wants to leave buttprints in the sands of time?” Have you thought about the legacy you will leave? Every choice you make in life and how it impacts the people around you and the environment you live in IS what your legacy will be.

Try it.

Write out two obituaries, the one you’re headed for and the one you want to be read about your life. I won’t promise you that it will make you an ocean rower, but it will definitely open your eyes, bring clarity to your vision, and launch you on the path toward living the life of your dreams.

It’s time to Celebrate!

We’re busy planning for Roz’s Indian Ocean landfall. Destination Mauritius! There is much to be done. We are excited and we’d love for everyone to celebrate with us. Have you told your friends about Roz? It’s time to spread the word, gather your friends, and join us in celebrating as Roz rows ashore.

We’re creating a special surprise for Roz. And, we need your help.

We’d love to know:

1) How did you come to learn about Roz Savage?
2) What’s your favorite memory or highlight of her ocean rowing career?
3) Did she inspire you? How so? Write a short 250 words or less and tell us about it. (Post it in a comment below.)

Stay Connected

Roz will be retiring her oars following this historic Indian Ocean row. But, she’s not retiring from using her life to make a positive difference. She has some exciting new announcements to make soon. Stay connected by joining Roz on the links below.

Join Roz on Facebook (here).

Sign up for the blog to be emailed to you, sign up on the website here.

Follow Roz on Twitter here. and she’ll follow you back (here).

Help Roz ban plastic bags from the Olympic Games 2012 by signing this petition here.

If you’d like to have Roz as a guest on your show or would like to interview Roz, schedule it here .

If you’d like to schedule Roz for your next event as a speaker or to host a great adventure, contact us here.

Tour Schedule: If you’d like to meet Roz in your city, stay tuned for Tour dates and times.
Roz is actively seeking sponsorship. If you’re interested, you can find out the opportunities for corporate sponsorship here.

Sponsored Miles: thanks go to: Pamela Adams, Stephanie Batzer, Jeffrey Green, Brian Smith, Tamara Fogg. Also to Kenny Runnderduck and Linda Leinen.

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 188 nautical miles to go. (This may be updated as the day goes on.)

I am getting quite fond of my new little friend, the shark. He has been keeping me company for two days now, cruising alongside my boat. I keep thinking he has wandered off in search of faster-moving company, but then a while later, I catch sight of a sharky shadow under the water, or spot his distinctive dorsal fin and the tip of his tail poking up above the waves, and I’m happy and curiously flattered to find that he has come back again. As it looks like we are going to be more than passing acquaintances, I have decided to call him Sharky McShark. Imaginative, hey?!

Most of the time he keeps about fifteen feet away from the boat, but sometimes he comes as close as 5 feet, or meanders off to a distance of fifty feet. I don’t know what kind of shark he is. He is an elegant, plain grey, like the colour of a raincloud. His belly may be paler, but it’s difficult to see. He is four or five feet long, and moves with a shimmy that is appealing rather than sinister.

I get quite a kick out of seeing him there. It’s pretty cool having a shark escort. I certainly don’t feel scared of him. Sharks kill about 8 people a year. We kill about 80 – 100 million of them. So they definitely get the raw end of the deal. Sadly, it is not just the sharks that are affected. Removing the apex predator in such enormous numbers throws the whole ocean ecosystem out of whack.

I don’t know what Sharky McShark sees in me – or Sedna. Is he simply attracted to a larger object, like the Fish Aggregating Devices? Or is he on the lookout for supper? If the latter, he’s out of luck, unless he likes rawfood crackers.

I haven’t mentioned him to Woody the Pirate. Woody is understandably not too keen on sharks. There is, after all, a reason that he has a wooden peg leg….

Other Stuff:

The wind picked right up today, but it was coming from the SSE, so this was good news. Yesterday I received an email from Tony Humphreys, who is managing my Mauritius logistics, advising me to loop slightly north and then west, rather than heading in a straight line (fat chance) for Grand Baie. This course should help me avoid a current off the coast of Mauritius that could scupper my chances of a clean landfall. So a SSE wind was perfect.

I am now checking in with Mum via satellite phone on a daily basis. Every day there is more news about plans for landfall. It looks like we will be quite a merry crew in Mauritius. On Monday Colin Leonhardt flew out from Perth, Australia, ready to capture my arrival in photos and film. Mum is due to arrive next Monday. Tony Humphreys will be coming out sometime in the next week to manage safety, customs, immigration and shipping arrangements. And there may be a couple more folks too – I’ll let you know who if/when they are confirmed.

This will make my arrival all the more special. When I arrived in Papua New Guinea last year there were 5,000 people there to greet me – but not a single person that I knew. Sir Peter Barter, owner of the Madang Resort did a magnificent job there of managing absolutely everything, from coordinating the welcoming crowds, to arranging for customs officials to stamp me in, to giving me a month’s hospitality at his luxurious resort – but it will also be nice this year to see a few familiar faces waiting on the jetty.

Quote for the day: “It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment.” (Ansel Adams). Some things don’t change.

Sponsored Miles: Thank you: Doug Grandt, Sally Phillips, Rolando Cuadrado, Nick Perdiew, Ben at Javelin complete; also Mary Kadzielski, Barbara Henker, Brad McConnell and Steve Penners.

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 238 nautical miles to go. (This may be updated as the day goes on.)

My fishy friends are leaving me. The community of dorados that has kept me company for much of this voyage is slowly diminishing. Only one or two ghostly blue shapes occasionally flit beneath my boat, down from about twenty at its peak. Whereas I used to see twenty or thirty fishy backflips each day, I saw only one or two yesterday.

I feel quite bereft. They may not have been the chattiest of companions, but I found their presence quite reassuring, in a strange way. Of course, I knew they would have to peel away eventually as I approached landfall, but I still have many miles to go. They could have stuck around for a bit longer.

Do I sound like I’m sulking? Maybe I am. Rejection always hurts – even when the party doing the rejecting has fins and a tail.

Other Stuff:

I have had a small shark following my boat all day today. He is only 3 or 4 feet long, but I am still quite pleased that I have done my final barnacle-scrub for this voyage. I don’t want to lose any limbs at this stage!

Kristian glad to hear you’ve got the champagne on ice! Sandra is organizing some landfall celebration parties in various locations, and I know for sure there is going to be one in the Bay Area, so stay tuned for details!

Granny Dolores – thank you for your lovely message. It warmed my heart to hear about the lifestyle changes you are making for the greener – the Earth thanks you!

Quote for the day: “People are best convinced by reasons they themselves discover” (Benjamin Franklin)

Sponsored Miles: Thanks to Kit Mosden; some of yesterday’s miles were sponsored by an anonymous donor. Scott Wagner and Ian Hamby – thank you for your donations to miles beyond Roz’s present destination.

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 255 nautical miles to go.

This morning I woke up and, like every other morning, the first thing I did after folding away my bunk was to grab a wet wipe, open the hatch, and head out on deck to do… what most people do first thing in the morning. I was squatting there on deck using the pee jug, when I sensed a presence behind me. I turned my head, to see an enormous cargo ship not two hundred yards away.

Oops.

I have got so used to having the entire ocean to myself that it hadn’t even occurred to me to check that I was alone before performing my morning ablutions. I don’t know if the crew got an eyeful. They were idling silently nearby as if watching me, so I’m sure that they had seen my boat. If they had binoculars, they would have seen me quite easily once I popped out of the cabin. I was too embarrassed to try and raise them on the VHF, so thankfully I will never know for sure just what they saw.

Another cargo ship passed by this afternoon, in the distance. After all this time alone on the ocean, it feels strange and a little intrusive to have all this maritime traffic passing by. I’m not sure I like it. I miss my privacy. Don’t they realise it’s rude to barge into my ensuite bathroom without so much as a by-your-leave?!

Other Stuff:

Slow progress today in light winds. Some days I wake up to a nice surprise when I turn on the GPS to find out how far I’ve traveled overnight. My best night on this voyage was 22 miles to the good. Last night I made only 2. But at least they were in the right direction.

Blogs from now on will generally be getting shorter. During these final miles, I need to be very focused on navigation. I’m aiming for a relatively tiny target after 4,000 miles of ocean. So I need to concentrate – not to mention row like crazy if it looks like I’m meandering off course. I’m on a good trajectory at the moment, but it would only take one mean old current, or a rogue eddy, or an adverse wind, and it could still all go awry. It ain’t over till it’s over.

Quote for the day – I couldn’t find any quotes about going to the bathroom, so here is a fine Churchillism instead: “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” (Winston Churchill)

Picture: Freighter in the bathroom – not the bathtub! Rita. (From the internet.)

Sponsored Miles: Tom Gignoux, Mary Lu Kelley, Larry Grandt, also Robert Smith and Chris Wagner. Thank you for your contributions.

YOU CAN SEE ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day.

Anna Farmery asked:
“Just wondering if you go through some fears of going to shore?”

This has been on my mind today. “Reality” (as landlubbers like to refer to that strange version of life that takes place on terra firma! is already starting to extend its tentacles out across the ocean to embrace me. Last night I stumbled across a video file on my iPhone – a trailer for a film called “(Astro)Turf Wars”. Like most trailers, it had high-octane, rapid-fire editing. Its content included people shouting and waving banners. I ran the gamut of emotions in empathy with the characters on the tiny screen – anger, cynicism, scorn, indignation. By the end of the 2:36 minutes I felt quite exhausted by the bombardment of sound, vision and emotion.

Not to say that my time on the ocean has been devoid of emotion or exhaustion – it has had plenty of both – but they have been of quite a different nature, being generally much slower-paced and, of course, entirely solitary. I have been creating my own reality here – choosing my audiobooks, thinking my thoughts, composing my blogs. When I get back to dry land, I will suddenly be plunged into a different kind of reality – one that is much more interdependent with other people. I don’t know yet how that will make me feel. I’ve never been at sea for this long before. I’ll find out when I get there.

But regardless of any reservations I may have, there are many, many things I am looking forward to. I keep starting to feel impatient for them, and have to tamp down my eagerness, reminding myself that I still have several hundred miles to go, and that it is worth savouring these last precious days at sea. However, I can’t deny that I will be tremendously happy to once again see/do/have the following:

- putting together plans for the next phase of my life
- face to face conversations
- internet access – I pine for Google!
- iPhone data services – and is there a new iPhone out since I left Australia?
- walking
- hot showers
- cold drinks
- running water
- putting on makeup and wearing nice clothes
- a massage
- clean sheets
- trees
- sipping a cocktail while watching the sun go down
- any food that isn’t brown!

Photo: Friendly Welcome to Antigua

Other Stuff:

The ocean and I were both lethargic today. I think I need more protein. I don’t know what the ocean’s excuse is. Winds were light and progress was steady. Seems that more of my energy went into emails than into rowing – lots afoot for landfall celebrations. All will be revealed in due course.

Thank you all very much for the good wishes for this final stage of my voyage. It’s all getting quite exciting. I’m trying to stay calm and focused, but of course I am counting down the days!

Bruce – thanks for the barnacle limerick. Made me laugh!

And then you got into a limericking duel with UncaDoug – even better!!

I’m sorry, Doug, but I think that Bruce just narrowly edged you out – rhyming kiss, miss, and abyss together was a master stroke….

Marks-the-Spot – a very dry martini sounds good to me! And after 5 months without a proper shower, make that a very dry DIRTY martini! And fear not – Vic and I will be continuing our podcasts even after landfall. Looks like life on dry land is going to be interesting.

Julian Hapel – there is an International Talk Like A Pirate Day? And we missed it??!! Well, damn yer eyes and keel-haul the cabin boy, we’ll just have to make up for it now! I do think Woody could have reminded me….

Alanna – I loved the story of how you found me on Google Earth. I just had to share it with Evan, my man at Google, who was mostly responsible for me being on GE. Funnily enough, his wife is called Alanna – what are the odds?

Quote for the day: “The time is always right to do the right thing.” (Martin Luther King)

Sponsored Miles: Bruce Gervais, Margaret Andersen (quite a number of miles) and Dan Peschio – thank you.

Photo Courtesy of TripAdvisor

Philosophy Friday….

Last winter I spent several weeks in the small Devon town of Salcombe (not far from the first transition town, Totnes, which you saw here yesterday) while I worked on my book about the Pacific crossing. I mostly was in writer-recluse mode, but did occasionally take time out to spend time with friends.

One of those friends was Stevie Smith, author of Pedaling to Hawaii: A Human-Powered Odyssey“, about his human-powered pedalboat voyage from San Francisco to Honolulu with crewmate Jason Lewis. They set out from the Presidio Yacht Club under the Golden Gate Bridge – as did I.

Stevie is now a ferryman, running the tiny passenger ferry across the Salcombe Estuary, 5 minutes each way, backwards and forwards all day long, come rain or shine. As befits a man who had the Dalai Lama write the foreword to his book, this seems an appropriately Buddhist occupation.

Stevie is a great reader and thinker, and I knew our conversation would be stimulating. As we sat at the bar in a centuries-old pub on that dark December evening, enjoying the warmth from the log fire and sipping on dark pints of real ale, I told him about my book-in-progress. I explained that I was weaving my thoughts on sustainability into the tale of the Pacific voyage.

Quite rightly, he challenged me on my sloppy use of the word “sustainable”. Like many people, I had fallen into the trap of using the term to mean “greener than the alternatives” or “environmentally lower impact” rather than truly “sustainable”.

Thinking about it in its literal sense, very little is truly sustainable. According to my MacBook’s dictionary, the term means “conserving an ecological balance by avoiding depletion of natural resources.” It sounds simple, yet would exclude any material that is mined or drilled – which covers a large proportion of the materials currently used in manufacturing and construction.

Strictly speaking, the word should apply not only to inputs, but to what is left after the object or building has reached the end of its useful life. If you have a form of oil-free plastic that does not biodegrade, it can’t really be said to be sustainable, as it will linger for centuries in a useless after-life.

The basic question is very simple: if everybody did what I am doing, day after day, what would the consequences be in a year? In five years? In a hundred years? In a thousand years? And if the answer is that a resource would run out, or the world would become cluttered with persistent debris, then the practice is not sustainable.

But that is setting the standard very high. Can we ever attain it?

Chastened by Stevie’s question, I gazed thoughtfully into my pint and wondered if even beer could be said to be sustainable. It was from a local Devon brewery, but had surely arrived by oil-dependent road transport. Youngs Brewery in London still uses horse-drawn carts to deliver beer (or at least it did a few years ago – I’m not sure now). But at least beer is closer to being sustainable than a fizzy soda. And so very much nicer on a chilly winter’s evening.

Other Stuff:

Conditions warm and calm today. Progress good. Birds becoming ever more chatty. The dorados are still with me, but for how much longer?

Naomi - wonderful to hear from you! I was thinking about you just the other day, and wondering if you are in Hawaii or NYC now? Thanks for writing to Rosie about me – I agree, that would be great fun. Let’s hope she calls!

Quote for the day: “In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.” (Albert Einstein)

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. Nautical miles still to go: 312

Roz’s latest Podcast, Episode 50, Delicious Mauritius, is now available.

Sponsored Miles: Grateful to the following: Chris Ferreira, Wayne Batzer, Beau Hebert, Deborah Dennis, Cornelia Feller. Numbers higher than Roz will actually be rowing: Terry Jones, Julie West and Tom Cotter (Fresno Solar Tour)

Isabel

I was put in touch with Isabel Carlisle by a mutual friend, and last year when my travels took me to Devon she invited me to meet her at her home in Totnes. Over a delicious homemade lunch, she told me about her recent move to the town and her work in eco-literacy. She also gave me a wonderful little book that I have here with me on my boat: “Perseverance”, by Meg Wheatley. When UncaDoug brought up the topic of transition towns, I thought that Isabel would be the perfect person to give us the insider’s view.

It’s funny how life happens. I didn’t plan to move to Totnes at all. I came down for a meeting at Dartington (the big estate just outside Totnes) in June 2010, just when I was selling the family flat in London. Out of curiosity I got onto one of those websites for people looking for houses and tapped in how many bedrooms I wanted, the price, the location etc. and whichever way I searched this house called Monks Retreat kept coming up. So I phoned the estate agent on the Monday, made an appointment to see it on the Wednesday, took the train down to Devon on the Tuesday, saw it and thought “yes, I can see my life working here”, and made an offer on the Thursday which was instantly accepted. And it was the first house I looked at anywhere!

So now I live in Transition Town Totnes in a beautiful 3-year-old eco-house made of green oak which upstairs looks like a medieval barn with great curving beams held together with wooden pegs. I have rainwater harvesting, a wood-burning stove, a solar porch, masses of light from top windows and great insulation. Every day I think how incredibly fortunate I am and give deep thanks that life brought me here. I also ponder on the fact that my immediate neighbours are the towering red sandstone church on one side and the Co-Operative supermarket on the other. I am poised between the old (15th century) and the new (late 20th century) and somehow think that the church will outlast the supermarket and I’ll live to see the supermarket car park turned into a garden for growing food.

One of the features of Totnes, until only 20 years ago, was that it had market gardens right on the edge of town. There were rows and rows of glasshouses and they even grew exotic fruit that we now import from abroad as well as flowers that they sold in their shop on the High Street. They didn’t compete with local farmers who could grow crops like potatoes, they complemented them with the food that needed more effort to grow, like green beans. Fertiliser came from the pigs kept for the local bacon factory and the local schools took their food scraps to feed the pigs. That satisfying no-waste closed-loop local economy is a key to resilience.

Here in Transition HQ (Totnes is where it all started and is still the seed bed for new Transition models) we think and talk and act resilience. How will we as individuals, as communities, as wider societies be impacted by the triple challenges of climate change, the end of cheap energy and economic contraction? If you came to visit you would see some food growing down by the river (which people can help themselves to for free) and solar panels on roofs (part of a government-funded scheme called Transition Streets). What you wouldn’t see are all the connections, the relationships and the energy that are going into preparing for a post-oil future. Around the world there are now more than 750 Transition initiatives in 34 countries involving many thousands of people.

My own role is looking at what education for a Transition future might be. As sure as anything the future that young people and children are currently being educated for in this country is not the future that is approaching. So we are developing guidelines for a Transition School and designing a one-year learning journey for young people aged 18 to 25 who want an apprenticeship model of learning practical skills as well as the knowledge and inner leadership that will serve them and others in the bumpy ride that we all face ahead. My key guiding principle is that nothing will be planned without including young people in that process. And my current question is “How can we create an international network of young people who are collaboratively designing the education they need for a Transition future? If you have any ideas, let me know!”

Here is my favourite quote of the moment. It comes from Anatol Rappaport (he was a mathematical psychologist at the University of Toronto last century): “The moral development of a civilisation is measured by the breadth of its sense of community”

Isabel Carlisle lives in Totnes, Devon, and is heading up a new education strategy (for ages 5 to 25) within the international Transition Town movement. This will create an inspiring home for youth action on sustainability and develop blueprints for learning that will be freely shared. You can email her on: [email protected], follow news of Transition in Rob Hopkins’ blog and visit the Transition Network website.

Isabel Carlisle
[email protected]

Business: 01803 847 976

Imagine what a world of prosperity and health in the future will look like, and begin designing for it right now. What would it mean to become, once again, native to this place, the Earth – the home of all our relations? This is going to take us all, and it is going to take forever. But then, that’s the point. (Braungart and McDonough 2009, p.186)

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day. 332.67 nautical miles to go.

Other Stuff

Good progress today. The forecast shows a period of relatively stable conditions with moderate winds. This suits me just fine. You can keep your lousy 30+ knots, I’m happy with 15. Definitely one of those cases where less is more, and more is too much.

The birds have started calling to each other. This is something that I’ve noticed before: in the middle of the ocean the birds are silent, but once I get within several hundred miles of land they become more vocal. Nobody has been able to offer me a reason why, but I don’t really care. It’s just nice to have a sign that I am drawing ever closer to land.

Quote for the day: “Happiness leads none of us by the same route.” (Charles Caleb Colton)

Sponsored Miles: David Church, Jonathan Frankel, Linda Leinen, James Gale, Doug Grandt, Joan Sherwood, Noah Hawk, Michael Guy, Mark Gleason, John Miller, Sally Angel. Those whose numbers are higher than Roz’s mileage: Cassandra Wilson, Molly McCallum, Stephanie Batzer, Nick Perdiew and Nicola Tsang. Grateful thanks to all.

On my previous voyages, the RozTracker has been one of the most popular pages on my website. It made it easy for occasional visitors to see at a glance where I was, and for the regulars to see whether I had had a good day’s mileage or… not.

So it was with great reluctance that this year we decided not to post my position online. And with great delight that I can announce that from now until the end of my Indian Ocean voyage my position will be posted several times daily on this website.

Pirates Ahoy

The reason for NOT posting my position was safety. Back in January, when I was busy with the planning stages of Eat-Pray-Row, terrible stories were coming back from the Indian Ocean. Pirates were running rampant, rapidly expanding their area of operations and becoming increasingly aggressive. Four Americans were shot and killed. A total of over 300 people were being held hostage. The situation was serious.

I sought advice from maritime organizations and shipping companies. The experts said, “Don’t go.” That wasn’t the advice I wanted to hear, so I proposed a compromise. I would go, but not advertise my position online. They agreed that, if I really insisted on pursuing my plans, this would be a sensible precaution.

I also had to change my route. Initially, I had intended to row to Mumbai in India, but this would have taken me through the Arabian Sea, the most dangerous area of all. So I investigated other options – Zanzibar, Madagascar, Goa, Cochin. But they were all within the area dominated by pirates.

Maternal Concern

My mother has been remarkably phlegmatic about my ocean rowing exploits over the years, but this was too much even for her. After she had received a phone call from a man at the UKMTO (United Kingdom Maritime Trading Organization, during which he had terrified her with dire predictions of what awaited me, she wrote me an email that ended, “As if rowing across oceans wasn’t bad enough, now this???” My mother is not given to excessive panic nor excessive punctuation, so those three question marks meant that she was far from happy. A compromise solution had to be found.

Ultimately I decided to stick to the safer waters of the southern hemisphere, but to leave Mumbai on my website’s home page as a decoy. My destination has been a closely guarded secret, known only to a handful of people.

But now, nine months later on, as I near the end of my voyage, we have decided after much deliberation that it is safe to go public. The pirates have not continued the expansion of their operations, confining themselves mostly to the area north of the Equator, with only a few forays to the south. And I am now so close to land that they are unlikely to find me before I make landfall.

Destination: Mauritius

Yup, just like everybody else who rows the Indian Ocean (with only a few exceptions), I am aiming for Mauritius, a beautiful island off the eastern coast of Africa. I am now about 368 miles away, and hope to make landfall in early October.

I am aware that the Woodvale crews were not so coy about their destination, also Mauritius. Good for them. Each crew has to make their own decision, based on the information available to them. Sarah Outen was also open about her destination, but that was two years ago, before the rapid increase in pirate activity. I consulted the experts, and based on their advice made a decision that was acceptable to them, myself, and my mother. We will never know what might have happened if I had decided otherwise.

Final Countdown:

So now you know, and I hope you’re getting as excited as I am for this final countdown. It feels like forever since I parted company with terra firma in Australia’s Abrolhos Islands on 4th May, and my feet are yearning to feel solid ground beneath them once again. I also have a feeling that they may well propel me in the direction of the nearest bar soon after landfall!

On the one hand, it’s hard to believe that this is almost over – that my world of sea, sky, dorados and yellowfins will soon be just a memory. On the other hand, I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!

You can see ROZ’S ROUTE here. Each dot links to the blog from that day.

Other Stuff:

Making good progress. Conditions benign.

I hear from my mother that our fundraising campaign to raise her airfare has been a fantastic success so far – thank you all so much! I think we now have almost enough to cover her costs. The next segment goes towards a full-body massage as a treat for me (and oh boy, do I need it!), and after that any further sums go to charity. You’ve been absolutely fantastic. I’m sure I speak for Mum as well when I say that your generosity has made us feel very loved.

I finished listening to “Spiral Dynamics: Mastering Values, Leadership and Change” by Don Beck today. Loved it. It presents a way of looking at humanity that absolutely made sense to me, and addresses questions such as how you speak to people in the emerging economies about being more environmentally responsible. Answer is: you don’t. You have to speak to them in the appropriate language for their stage of development. That isn’t patronising, it’s just practical. I would highly recommend this audiobook to anybody interested in human beings and the future of the world – which hopefully means everybody!

Quote for the day: “It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness.” (Charles Haddon Spurgeon)

Sponsored Miles: Thank you to : Mark Dyson, Megan Lutz, Bonnie Sterngold, David Cameron, Nick Perdiew, Alexandra Stevens, Jeffrey Green, Peter Lisker. Sponsored beyond Roz’s destination: Megan Lutz, Sally Phillips, Rolando Cuadrado, Chris Ferreira, Wayne Batzer and Gail Brownell.

A very special thank you from Rita for the loving generosity shown by Roz’s friends donating funds for me to travel to be there when Roz arrives. Sorry I have not been able to acknowledge them all individually.
Special mention to Poppy (8) and Joseph (5) for the joke they sent along as well: Why did the Dinosaur cross the road? Because the chicken hadn’t been invented.
Rita.
–

Barnacles - not Roz's boat.

Yesterday I mentioned that in the calmer waters I had done some barnacling.
The barnacle situation had got quite bad. I had hoped that the chaps downstairs might be keeping an eye on things, possibly scraping a few barnacles off when they knock against the hull, but no such luck. It was barnacle heaven down there, especially on the rudder – possibly because it is wooden, and hence more porous and inviting to barnacle feet. It took me over an hour to restore the hull to a reasonably hydrodynamic state.

I really loathe this job. It’s hard work scraping away at barnacles, and I have to hold my breath before each foray under the hull because it’s too deep for a snorkel. So it goes like this: deep breath, scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, surface, gulp air. Repeat about a hundred times until hull is relatively barnacle-free. I don’t like the feel of the barnacles catching against my legs as they drift off into the depths. Feeling anything brush against my skin while I’m in the water makes me very jumpy. Ugh.

Seeing it from the barnacles’ point of view, I’m sure they’re none too happy about it either. There they are, barnacling away, minding their own business, when along comes a giant armed with a white paint scraper to forcibly evict them from this nice convenient home they’ve just found. So there ain’t nobody happy.

Other Stuff:

I am listening to “Spiral Dynamics: Mastering Values, Leadership and Change” by Don Beck. Fascinating stuff.

Quote for the day: “The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty. The activist is the man who cleans up the river.” (Ross Perot)

We have now raised just over $4000 to bring my mother out to see me arrive. Huge thanks to all who have contributed so far. To make a donation, visit our fundraising website Send Rita To See Roz.

Sponsored Miles: Better miles, and grateful thanks to our sponsors today: Helen Webb, Christopher Senn, Dick Stivers, Uta Steckhan, Chris Lynch, Linda and Graham Pugh, Christopher Smith, Peter Bromley, Larry Grandt, Molly McCallum and Mark Dyson. Those who sponsored higher numbers beyond Roz’s destination: Larry Grandt, Linda Leinen, Doug Grandt, Nick Perdiew and Stephanie Batzer.

Harnessed.

I wanted to reassure you that I am not just being terribly British and stiff-upper-lip about my capsizes last week. They really weren’t all that bad. It occurred to me that there is a kind of sliding scale of capsizes, from the mild to the really, really nasty. So I have compiled a beginner’s guide to boat-rolling.

In all cases, I have assumed that the cabin hatches are both closed. The boats are designed to be self-righting, provided that the cabins are watertight and hence act as buoyancy chambers. The air trapped inside them makes the boat unstable in the upside down position and it will self-right after a few moments. But if the hatches have been left ajar, this is a different, and much more disastrous, story. During the 2005 Atlantic Rowing Race, 6 boats were forced to retire and their crews rescued, and in at least 3 of these cases the crisis was caused by a capsize happening while the cabin hatches were open. Water rushed into the cabins and the boats stayed upside down in an irrecoverable capsize. Game over.

(Click here to see a video of Olly’s ocean rowing boat being tested for its ability to self-right. Thanks to Jay for this.)

So, after all that preamble, this is how the capsize scale goes, in ascending order of nastiness:

1. Knockdown:

Not really a capsize at all. The boat goes through 90 degrees, onto its side, before self-righting. But it can still cause considerable mayhem if things aren’t tied down or stowed properly. And it’s definitely enough to wake you up if you were asleep.

2. 360 roll while in the cabin, strapped to bunk

Unpleasant but not too bad. Injury unlikely to occur provided that all sharp objects such as scissors, screwdrivers, knives etc are properly stowed, and that all heavy objects such as Pelican cases containing laptops are secured. However, outside the cabin, considerable damage is possible. Any protruding objects such as antennae and spare oars may well snap with the pressure of water, and you can wave goodbye to anything that is not attached to the boat.

3. 360 roll while in the cabin, not strapped to bunk

On my second capsize in 2007, the straps that secured me to the bunk ripped out from the floor of the cabin, so unfortunately I do have experience of this variety. The cabin is only about three feet high, so again, major injury unlikely to occur provided that non-human contents of cabin are properly stowed as described above, but increased chance of bruises and minor cuts.

4. 360 roll while on deck, clipped on to boat

I haven’t actually tried this one. Sarah Outen swears she would rather be on deck during a capsize, so she can see what’s coming. I beg to differ, especially if it’s night time. The thought of being suddenly pitched into rough, dark water, not knowing which way is up, fills me with horror. Sarah is welcome to it. Should otherwise be quite survivable provided the rower doesn’t get knocked unconscious during the capsize.

5. 360 roll while on deck, not clipped on to boat

Could be very scary if the rower is thrown away from the boat, and then has to swiftly recover his/her senses and swim back to the boat in rough seas. Not advisable. If the conditions are even thinking about being rough enough for a capsize, the rower should be clipped on. I usually use a surfing leash around my ankle for general ease of movement, but I also have a body harness with a bungee in the back that I can clip to a D-ring on the boat.

6. The pitchpole

You really don’t want to do this. It involves the boat capsizing end over end. Again, I have no personal experience, but I read about it in Tori Murden’s book,A Pearl in the Storm: How I Found My Heart in the Middle of the Ocean (See all Memoirs)
, and it sounds horrendous. Tori received a major beating, including broken ribs and black eyes, and even though she sounds like one seriously tough cookie, she decided enough was enough and activated her EPIRB to summon the Coast Guard and abort her attempt.

Besides bunk straps and a leash, there are a few other things the ocean rower can do to mitigate the risks:

Crash helmet

I have a crash hat in the cabin, in case of extreme situations, but haven’t yet felt the need to use it.

Increase ballast

Since 2007 Sedna has 200 pounds of lead sealed into the bottom of her hull, evenly distributed between two different locations slightly fore and aft of centre. Generally, you want boats to be as light as possible, but after my capsizes off the California coast I decided that it was more important to me to stay the right way up than to go fast. Water ballast helps, but lead has the advantage of being denser, concentrating more weight lower in the boat. On this voyage I have been occasionally supplementing the ballast by intentionally flooding lockers beneath the deck.

Sea anchor

The sea anchor is probably the best safeguard against capsize. It turns the boat bow into the waves, so the water rushes down the sides of the boat rather than slamming into the side. Arguably I should have been using the sea anchor last week, but as the wind was blowing in the right direction I wanted to maximise my overnight drift. After the second capsize I did put the sea anchor out – naked on the deck at 2am, in the dark, in roaring wind and lashing waves. Not my favourite naked nocturnal activity, but better than spending the rest of the night in dread of capsize.

Part of the reason I downplayed the capsize last week is that I took partial responsibility for it. Neptune was not entirely to blame. My trusty weatherman, Lee Bruce, had forecast 30 knot winds with stronger gusts, so I knew that capsize was a possibility, but decided to take the risk in order to maximise mileage. You pays your money and takes your chances. You can get away with it for 99.9% of the night, but it only takes a single wave to catch the boat at precisely the wrong angle, and it all goes belly-up…. literally.

Other Stuff:

Today, nothing could have been further from Neptune’s mind than capsizing me. There has been the slightest whiff of a wind, but as it has been from the wrong direction, I decided to make the most of the calm conditions for a final day of boat maintenance before the final push for the finish. So I have spent the day on fixing things, laundry, personal hygiene, and barnacling.

I saw another cargo ship today – that makes two in as many weeks. It’s getting a bit crowded out here.

Our latest podcast is now live, “Send Rita To See Roz”. Thanks, Vic, for both the podcast and for setting up the fundraising site. I hear that the response has been absolutely fantastic – thank you so much to everybody who has contributed to my mother’s air fare to Destination X. She and I are already looking forward to a long-overdue hug!

Joan – congrats on completing the smallholding purchase! That is wonderful news. I can’t toast you in champagne yet, but will raise my water bottle to you tonight.

I am excited to hear from UncaDoug and Angela Hey about the ClimateRealityProject.org developments. It seems that there is real, renewed momentum behind the relaunched Climate Project – good for Al Gore. I can’t wait to catch up on the news when I reach shore.

Quote for the day: “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” (Confucius)

We have now raised $3929 to bring my mother out to see me arrive. Huge thanks to all who have contributed so far. To make a donation, visit our fundraising website Send Rita To See Roz.

Sponsored Miles: Contrast from yesterday. Few miles rowed, and they ere unsponsored.

Vulnerable Masts

This really has been rather a trying week. Midweek capsizes, and now the wind is coming at me sideways and blowing me off course, aided and abetted by an ocean current also pushing me the wrong way. I’ve been battling the elements all day, but the score has been Neptune 1, Roz 0.

The closer I get to my destination, the more this matters. Early on in the voyage, a few miles sideways here or there doesn’t really matter. Plenty of time to make corrections.

But as I enter these last few hundred miles, it starts to become much more important. I have a very specific destination in mind (which will be revealed in time for you to follow my final approach to landfall), and to land elsewhere would make life logistically challenging. It’s not so much that there is anything significant about my intended destination – just that there is not much point in Mum flying to Place A if I make landfall in Place B!

Also, if I miss my goal, I will be down to the absolute last of my food. I have enough for a while yet, although most of my favourite foods are now used up. It was with great sadness that I scraped the last few golden dollops of Karen Morss’s lemon marmalade out of the final jar a couple of days ago. All my chocolate is gone. The ingredients for my Cococompote (aka Roz’s Purple Wonder Breakfast) are long since extinct. I still have Larabars, rawfood crackers, and beansprouts which I mix up with tahini, all of which are tasty and healthy and nutritious, but just, well, rather brown. I shall be very glad to have a good square meal, possibly involving a very un-eco-friendly amount of protein, when I make landfall.

Still, not much I can do about it until the wind changes. As I near the end of this Eat-Pray-Row voyage, all three activities are much on my mind!

Other Stuff:

I hear that our appeal to raise Mum’s air fare is going great guns – thank you hugely to all who have chipped in so far. We are so very grateful! If we exceed our target, we’ll put the rest of the money towards a good environmental cause. Or maybe a massage for my poor long-suffering shoulders, and after that an environmental cause. Would that be acceptable?!

Thank you for your concern over my capsize. I actually had two this week. I don’t get too fazed by capsizes these days. I usually just swear mildly and set about putting things to rights. I don’t like to make too much fuss about them in case somebody decides to call out the coast guard to rescue me, as happened in 2007, much against my will.

However, to give due respect to the rowers featured in the videos on YouTube that Jay mentioned, showing them to be somewhat traumatised by capsizes, I will say that doing a 360 is not much fun and can cause significant damage – although after all these years I know to keep things well stowed to minimize breakages. The toll this week was chiefly objects that cannot be stowed safely inside cabins due to size or function: two oars, VHF antenna, Sea-Me antenna, and a bucket. All now fixed or replaced. As you correctly surmise, duct tape much in evidence, and a few cable ties. I am really now more than ready to make landfall. Roll on that happy day!

Thanks for your comments about my Bag It blog. A note on paper vs plastic bags – paper is better, but still far from perfect. It is heavier, so requires more CO2 to transport to stores, it comes from trees, and it can take a long time to biodegrade in landfills due to the super-compression of trash that eliminates the air needed for biodegradation to take place. So all the more reason to take your own reusable bags to the store, please!

Quote for the day: “Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck – but, most of all, endurance.” (James A. Baldwin)

Photo: Near San Francisco: Shows how vulnerable the masts are.

We have now raised $3716 to bring my mother out to see me arrive. Huge thanks to all who have contributed so far. To make a donation, visit our fundraising website Send Rita To See Roz.

Sponsored Miles: Gratitude to a large number of sponsors today. Leslie Layton, Stephanie Batzer, John Griffin, Lynn Robb, Brian Smith, Tamara Fogg, Hans Verwey, Julian Gall, Karen Morss, Jennifer Bester, Kamas Industries, Gillian Colledge; and from the list of those who sponsored miles beyond Roz’s destination: Thomas Heavey, Margaret @ Green Drinks, Nick Perdiew, Wayne Batzer, Louis Girard, Doug Grandt, Chris Lynch, Linda Leinen, Peter Bromley, Megan Lutz, Aimee Devine, Richard Miller and Stephanie Batzer.

.

I’d like to tell you a story about my attempt on the Pacific in 2007. It was either a failed attempt, or an intense learning experience, depending on how you prefer to look at things. And there is an environmental moral to the tale.

Salvaging Sedna

To get to the relevant part of the story, I’ll need to give a very swift recap of the preceding events. In brief, I was unwillingly picked up by a Coast Guard helicopter 10 days into my voyage, leaving my boat floating around on the ocean about 100 miles off the coast of California. I chartered a large research vessel for the salvage operation, and with the crew and a few intrepid friends set out from Sausalito to retrieve Sedna. We found her, lifted her aboard the research vessel, and spent the next 24 hours fixing her up and replacing broken equipment so I could resume my attempt at the earliest opportunity.

However, it was already late in the season, and my weatherman was dubious about the safety of relaunching so late in the year. After a restless night grappling with the pros and cons, I decided that it would be better to postpone my attempt until the following year. This was a really tough decision. It would be nine months before I could try again, and I felt especially bad about it as my friends had worked around the clock to get my boat ready for an immediate relaunch. I called everyone into the galley of the research vessel and broke the news, then apologized that all their hard work had been in vain.

One of my friends, Aenor Sawyer (aka my expedition medic, aka the Bone Doctor, whom I have mentioned before gently brushed aside my apologies. She explained that they didn’t mind in the least. They had always known that I may not be able to continue. But they had wanted to make sure that I had the OPTION to resume my row if conditions allowed. They didn’t want my options to be restricted by not having a seaworthy boat, so they were happy to have done the work necessary to keep that option open to me. She thereby introduced me to what she called the concept of “Ultimate Flexibility”.

Ultimate Flexibility

The premise of Ultimate Flexibility is that we are rarely able to make decisions based on perfect information, so it makes sense to keep as many options open for as long as possible, pending further developments. When in doubt, take the course of action that maximizes the number of options available. I now use this as a guiding principle when making decisions, and it strikes me that it is also highly relevant to our environmental challenges.

We don’t want to find ourselves trapped in a corner that we can’t get out of because we have done too little, too late. Sceptics say climate change isn’t happening, or isn’t due to human interference. Let’s for a moment suppose that they may be right, but we can’t be sure yet, so we would be wise not to restrict our options at this stage. We rarely regret being ready too soon rather than too late. So why procrastinate? Whichever way we look at it, we are going to run out of fossil fuels sometime. So what do we have to lose by being ready now, apart from a lot of smog, sickness and war over scarce resources? Let’s hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.

Whichever way you look at it, one day we will run out of oil. For sure. It took millions of years to create, and since we discovered it around a hundred and fifty years ago, we have already used up most of it. We are having to resort to ever more energy-intensive and environmentally destructive methods to squeeze the last few drops out of our poor ailing planet in order to fuel our oil addiction. The time, money and energy that is going into these desperate last-ditch efforts would be better spent on creating clean, renewable energy sources that will sustain us into the future. Solar, wind and tidal energy will be available for as long as the sun continues to shine, the wind continues to blow, and the moon continues to orbit the Earth. If and when those things ever cease to happen, we will have bigger worries than how to refill our cars.

But to transition from the energy supply systems we have now, to the energy supply systems of the future, we need energy. Oil would be useful too, as we will need to make solar panels, and wind and water turbines, which are likely to require plastic, oil-derived, components. So in the interests of Ultimate Flexibility I would like to see us using our diminishing resources of fossil fuel to create the infrastructure for a sustainable energy future. The longer we leave it, and the scarcer our old-world energy sources become, the harder this is going to be.

Future Flexibility

There is also the issue of future flexibility: what right do we have to rob our descendants of the opportunities that we have enjoyed? If we use up all the fossil fuels, destroy the rainforests, exterminate numerous species, and generally continue guzzling our resources with reckless abandon, we are depriving future generations of their freedom to enjoy these privileges. Ultimate Flexibility is not just a concept for the present, but for the future as well.

Other Stuff:

After capsizing the previous two nights in a row, I was really pleased not to do my tumble-dryer act last night. Capsizes are to be expected, but not welcomed. Conditions today have been very variable, but during a lull in the wind I was able to make a foray to the fore cabin to obtain replacements for equipment that had broken during the storm. My last bucket had shattered – not so much a hole in my bucket, but a bit of bucket left around the hole – but I had a large lidded tub that Sir Peter Barter had used to airdrop food, beer, and reading matter from his helicopter as I was on the final approach to Papua New Guinea last year. This tub has now been fitted with a rope handle, and will serve as my washbucket for the remainder of the voyage. I also got replacements for some data cables that have been behaving erratically recently, and assorted other bits and pieces. I am now feeling shipshape(ish) again.

I moved on to a new flavour of rawfood crackers today. For some reason, when on board I prefer to work my way through one particular flavour and only when it is all used up do I move onto the next one. I don’t mix it up. I have long since finished the “mock turkey” flavour (cashew nuts and cranberries) and “pizza base”, and am now onto the “sunburgers”. David, please let Suki and Brendan know that the crackers have been awesome. The biodegradable plastic packaging has been fine – no deterioration as yet. I am keeping this packaging separate from the rest of my trash so it can be suitably composted when I reach dry land. When I realized this voyage was going to take longer than planned, I had to find a way to use every calorie on board, so I have been slathering the rawfood crackers with the Red Feather canned butter that was a last-minute donation. I am sure this defeats the purpose of the crackers as a super-healthy vegan food, but desperate times call for desperate measures!

Quote for the day: “It’s choice, not chance, that determines your destiny.” (Jean Nidetch)

Photo: Handy with a scalpel or a drill – Aenor using her surgical skills on Sedna (then known as the Brocade)

We have now raised $2650 towards our target of $4000 to bring my mother out to see me arrive. Huge thanks to all who have contributed so far. To make a donation, visit our fundraising website Send Rita To See Roz

Latest Podcast now available: Send Rita To See Roz

Sponsored Miles: Kenny Runnerduck, Todd Lowe, Doug Grandt, Bonnie Sterngold, Ward Carpenter, Thomas Heavey and Margaret @ Green Drinks. Miles sponsored beyond Roz’s destination: Larry Grandt, Chris Lynch, Jessica Taylor, Kenny Runnderduck, Terry Jones, Ward Carpenter and Thomas Heavey. Grateful thanks to all.

Rita packing rations for Roz's Atlantic crossing in 2005 All Rights: Roz Savage

From Roz Savage:

“Over the years, my mother has been an occasionally concerned but always faithful supporter of my ocean rowing adventures. She has been the one consistent member of my team throughout, filling the shoes of shore manager, accountant, media liaison, personal assistant, campaign manager and even weatherman. She helped fit out the Sedna Solo for the Atlantic. She helped me pack for the Pacific. She was there to greet me in Hawaii.

She would love to come and greet me as I complete this grand project to row the “Big Three” oceans. By the time I make landfall this year, I will have rowed the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans – the first woman ever to do so.

And I would love her to be there. I couldn’t have done it without her.

I know many of you have supported me already on this row by sponsoring miles. I thank you wholeheartedly for that. Without your generosity, I couldn’t have paid the satellite data costs to post this daily blog, record the podcast, or get essential forecasts from my weatherman.

I would like to ask you one more time for your support. Would you please help me raise the money to fly Mum out to greet me as I make landfall? I don’t have the budget, and she lives on a small pension, so we can’t do it without your help.

In return, we promise to get photos, videos and a blog online within hours of my arrival, so you can all share in our celebrations. This has been an enormous undertaking – a total of eight years in the making, 15,000 miles rowed, 500+ days at sea, and over 5 million oarstrokes. It would mean the world to me to have my wonderful mother there at the end, to celebrate this occasion that simply wouldn’t be happening without her.”

Rita greeting Roz at the end of the first stage of the Pacific Crossing in 2008 All Rights: Roz Savage

If you would like to help please go to “Send Rita to See Roz” and click the “Donate” button on the right.

All donations go directly to Rita Savage through Paypal.

APOLOGY FROM ROZ – Philosophy Friday will be on Saturday this week due to rough weather at sea.

Other Stuff:

Daydreams of my arrival are what’s keeping me going at the moment, as I hang on in here through the rough stuff. The wind is due to abate slightly tonight – down from 25-30 knots to 20-25 knots. I hope the wind got the memo.

Ken – I was a clue in “Balderdash”? Cool!

Martha – Eat, Pray, Bash? I like it! Bash and get bashed. Bash as you would be bashed by. Loved the quote too – thank you. Wise words.

Anna – I do indeed know that Maya Angelou quote from your esteemed podcasts. Sorry – I’d meant to mention that, and to link to The Engaging Brand, but I must have had my brains temporarily bashed out. Hereby mentioned, and linked! Now get trampling those grapes….

Quote for the day – in honour of my mother: “Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.” (Marion C. Garretty)

Sponsored Miles: Thank you Chris Lynch for today’s miles, and to Nicola Tsang who sponsored a mile beyond Roz’s destination.

Remember that sign that you used to see all over the place, pinned in office cubicles, independent stores and gas stations: “You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps” I ought to have one of those in my cabin.

Maybe it’s because I recently listened to the audiobook of “Shutter Island” about an institution for the criminally insane, but as I unstrapped myself from my bunk this morning and administered my vitamin pills, I felt like I was becoming my own Nurse Ratchett. Confined to my tiny cell in solitary confinement while the wind and the waves rage outside, I am definitely getting a touch of cabin fever. One Flew Over The Sedna Solo.

During the night I’d had one full 360 capsize and a couple of knockdowns, which were less fun than a root canal. I had emerged unscathed from the night’s dramas, but my equipment had suffered quite a bit of damage. The deck looked like a disaster zone, with various bits of broken kit dangling and banging in the wind. So once I had put out the sea anchor to make sure there were no more capsizes, I busied myself with cutting away the broken ends from my spare oars, fixing up the dismasted Sea-Me and VHF antennae with duct tape, stowing the shattered bucket, and generally tidying up.

That took me half the day. But what to do with the rest of the day, with no rowing to be done? The waves were still mountainous, and I can’t risk any more broken oars as I’m now down to my last pair. So I am playing it safe and sitting out the storm. But this is very, very boring.

I did some emails, but eventually it became too uncomfortable to sit hunched over my laptop any more. I stood out on the deck and watched the waves and the dorados for a bit, but it was wet, cold, and rather unsafe out there. I played Solitaire on my iPhone for a while (got my average time down to 3:00 minutes – woohoo!). But all of these scintillating pasttimes soon palled.

I may have to endure another 3 days of this if the high winds persist. If I wasn’t crazy when I set out across the ocean, I may well be by the time I reach the other side. ” You don’t have to be crazy to row oceans, but it helps.”

Other Stuff:

Actually, Solitaire isn’t so bad. It’s almost like meditation. It only takes half a brain, if that, so the other half is free to ponder and plan. But I don’t think it will catch on as a transcendental practice.

Thank you for sharing your stories of 9/11. I hope that the process of writing them was as cathartic for you as it was for me.

Doug – you mentioned the killjoy article “Going Green But Getting Nowhere”. It makes me cross that someone would write such a demotivating piece. Even the biggest corporation or government is made up of individuals, so we HAVE to start at that level. A “corporation” or a “government” doesn’t have a mind of its own – its direction is the accumulation of the people within it. Whichever way you look at it, we have to recruit hearts and minds – ideally of CEOs and presidents, but we ALL have a voice and a say in the future of our world.

Sindy – Leo Laporte introduced me to the Game of Thrones series. I loved them! As to an ETA, it would be premature to go public.

Quote for the day – on insanity: “The world we see that seems so insane is the result of a belief system that is not working. To perceive the world differently, we must be willing to change our belief system, let the past slip away, expand our sense of now, and dissolve the fear in our minds.” (William James)

Photo: Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

Sponsored Miles: Not many miles rowed due to weather conditions.

–

Globe in a Bag

I’ve had some very good news from the producer of the movie Bag It, and as plastic bags have been a hot topic on this blog, I wanted to share.

I met the producer, Michelle Hill, at the Blue Ocean Film Festival in Monterey last year, where she was picking up an award for “Best Movie in Festival”. Bag It is the “Supersized Me” of plastic bags – a lighthearted yet informative look at a serious issue. And it’s good to see that the filmmakers have maintained their momentum with an ongoing campaign to support bans on bags.

Michelle writes:

“As of this summer, we are launching our new educational distribution initiative with New Day Films! We hope to get Bag It in the hands of libraries, educators, and universities across the country this fall and beyond. Check out our New Day site HERE! Please help us spread the word about the film’s availability for teachers across the nation! We can’t do it alone. Licensing fees have also been reduced through New Day for high schools and community groups.

“We are also excited to let you know about Bag It’s new Education Advocate Program. For generous supporters of Bag It who’d like to increase its access to budget-stressed libraries and schools, a tax-deductible donation of $750 Bag It earns 10 Bag It Educational DVDs and companion curriculum guides to donate to local schools or libraries. We hope to see this program grow to be an incredible army of on-the-ground educators, armed with Bag It, among other tools. To become an Advocate, click here to register.”

She also shares the news that Bellingham, WA, has banned the bag, with city council voting unanimously for a ban on plastic bags in addition to a fee on paper bags. Congratulations to Bellingham on their significant outbreak of common sense! I hope it’s contagious!

It would be fantastic if London is next. Or how about your town? If my blogs have got you inspired to do something to make a difference in the world, why not organize a community screening of Bag It [http://www.newday.com/films/bagit.html]? Invite along your city council and see if you can persuade them to banish the bag too!

Other Stuff:

Conditions continue yucky. Last night we had a bit of a capsize, but no harm done. I was safely strapped into my bunk at the time. It did occur to me, if I’d have happened to look out of the cabin hatch at precisely the right moment, might I have seen a surprised-looking dorado outside?!

Quote of the day, on the subject of bags: “Own only what you can carry with you; know language, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag.” (Alexander Solzhenitsyn)

Sponsored Miles: Remembering Larry Grandt; thanking Bruce Gervais for sponsoring a mile beyond Roz’s destination.

At least the currents are on my side.

Generally, I try not to whinge about my life at sea. After all, I volunteered to be out here. Nobody forced me. So I feel that I thereby surrendered any right to complain.

But today was a tough one. Another day of 30 knot winds, and at least three more such days to come. The waves have been huge, and in the first hour of rowing today I had already suffered one knockdown (boat on side) and two boatfillers (rowing deck full of water, requiring me to run the bilge pump before I can carry on rowing).

Of course, the big waves don’t stop when the sun goes down, and having my sleep interrupted at frequent intervals by loud crashes and violent lurches does not improve my powers of resilience.

I would find all of this easier to put up with if I was whizzing along at a rate of knots in the high winds, but the waves seem to suck me backwards as much as they push me forwards, while making rowing very difficult. So the mileage was not very impressive. I spent most of the day wet and cold and mildly frustrated, so although I wasn’t really down in the dumps, my spirits weren’t exactly up either. Sigh. It’s all character-building stuff.

"Bio-Bandage® is the first in a line of revolutionary treatments to help your pond, freshwater or marine fishes recover from injuries".

On a lighter note, I did spare a thought for the chaps downstairs. They are still there, sticking with me through thick and thin. Occasionally I could see them surfing down a wave, heading straight for the side of my boat. I couldn’t see what happened then. I kept wondering if I would end up with a dorado in my lap as a wave comes in over the side. Or do they take evasive action at the last possible moment and duck beneath the hull? Or do they ever misjudge the distance and run headfirst into the side of the boat?

It made me smile to think of a poor little dorado, having collided with Sedna’s side, with a bandage on his nose. Not that fish have noses – or bandages. But hey, sometimes you just have to laugh.

Photo: Hmmm, no idea. Perhaps you can find a picture of a fish with a bandage on its nose….!!! No, I did not find such a picture, hope the one I did find will give you a laugh. Rita.

Other Stuff:

Thanks for the comments on my rosy view of the future. I agree that there may well be some extremely challenging times (for which read “global catastrophes”) between now and then. And I am duly wearing my metaphorical sneakers. In fact, a small part of me can’t help thinking “bring it on”, just so we can get through the apocalypse and into a brighter post-apocalyptic future. But I’m sure it will be here soon enough, without any wishing from me.

Stan – I agree that population may be an unpleasantly self-correcting issue. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way….

Tom Brown – thanks for your precis of your view of the future. I liked the sound of the supersonic public transport and the built-in phones. I even like the sound of the subscraper cities, being a fairly urban girl for all my talk of self-sufficiency. But your view of the future of food had me feeling rather queasy – and nothing to do with the waves. I’ll make the most of present forms of food while I can!

Eric – okay, we can have your supercities in the future. I would definitely be happier in a future where I’m a short walk away from a coffee shop!

Latest podcast is now available

Quote for the day: “We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.” G K Chesterton

Sponsored Miles: Nick Perdiew, Hans Verwey, Andrew Rutherford and Simon and Eve Ringsmuth sponsored some of yesterday’s miles; Chris Ferreira, Doug Grandt and Simon and Eve Ringsmuth sponsored miles a thousand further on, beyond Roz’s intended goal. Thank you to all of them.

Maya Angelou

As Mum and I were wrapping up our twice-weekly phone call today, she said “I’d better let you get back to your wavebashing.” Good word, I thought, picturing it as an active verb, like spud-bashing (aka peeling potatoes). It seemed an accurate description of the way I bash and splash my way through the waves in rough conditions.

However, after a few more hours of wavebashing, I have decided it is most definitely something the waves do to me, rather than something I do to them. The wind is blowing about 30 knots and the waves have been brutal. I feel like I’ve been in the boxing ring rather than a rowing boat. Well and truly wavebashed, in fact.

And the bashing continues, so I’m going to go and get safely horizontal and strapped in.

Quote for the day – an extra-long one as my blog is so short:

“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I don’t know the source of this one. A guess – is it Maya Angelou?

Sponsored Miles: Thanks to Jonathan Whitfeld, Bonnie Sterngold, Tom Grimmett and Patricia Paul. Also to Megan Lutz and an anonymous donor who sponsored miles beyond the number for Roz’s proposed destination – not as far as India.
–

Ground Zero Memorial

I am sure we all remember what we were doing on this day 10 years ago. 9/11 was, it seemed, one of those dates on which the world shifted sideways, and things would never be quite the same again.

My then husband was in New York, working in an office in midtown. We had spent most of the previous 18 months living in the city, in a small apartment on West 11th St in Greenwich Village. I had enthusiastically taken to life in New York – running in Central Park, rollerblading along the Hudson, working out at Crunch on Christopher Street, dining in many of the hole-in-the-wall restaurants in the West Village and clubbing at Lotus in the Meatpacking District.

But I was temporarily back in Britain for a walking holiday in Scotland, and was out for a solitary hike that day. I had my mobile phone with me, and the first I knew of the disaster was when I came up out of a valley, a reception blackspot, and my phone beeped to let me know I had a voicemail. It was my sister, asking if I had heard the news from New York. No details. What news? I wondered. Was my husband okay?

A bit later my phone rang. I saw it was an international call and picked up, but promptly lost the signal. I knew it was probably my husband. As the day wore on, the story slowly unfolded. Phone calls and voicemails from anxious friends revealed that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Then a second plane. That was when I turned around and headed back towards the guest house where I was staying. This was evidently no accident, and I needed to know what was going on.

More calls came through as I walked the eight miles back. It was a very strange feeling – my body was walking through the beautiful Scottish countryside, surrounded by mountains and heather and autumn-gold bracken, but my mind was completely absorbed with thoughts of New York. Everybody knew we were based in Manhattan, and were concerned for our safety. I heard that one of the towers had collapsed. Then that the second tower had gone down.

I arrived back at the guest house and sat in front of the TV, mesmerised by what I was seeing. I couldn’t believe it was real. It looked more like a Bruce Willis movie. By now I had spoken to my husband and knew he was safe. He was rattled – he had been able to see it all happening from the windows of his midtown office, and that night he would not be allowed through the cordons to get back to our apartment – but he had been safely away from danger.

I sat and watched the TV coverage, again and again. The plane. The explosion. The smoke. Dust-covered survivors. I yearned to be there, to do anything I could to help. I felt as if a close friend were in trouble, and I was stuck 3,000 miles away, unable to reach out and help ease the pain. It would be another 6 weeks before I was able to get on a flight to New York, and I found a city that seemed to have lost its usual vivacity. My New York friends seemed subdued, humbled, indignant. St Vincent’s Hospital was at the end of our street, and I stood and looked at the wall of photographs and messages from relatives still desperately hoping to find survivors. I went to Ground Zero and saw the jagged, charred remains. Some people might have thought it was ghoulish to visit the site, but to me, it felt like a pilgrimage.

So why am I telling you all this? Three reasons, I suppose. The first is that reliving our experience of the events in question is the natural human way of marking such occasions, and I felt the need to do the same – and the dorados were not an especially sympathetic audience. The second reason is that I wanted my American readers to know that, even though I am a Brit, for a while back there I was a New Yorker, and felt the events of 9/11 as keenly as any American.

And the third reason is this: to ask now, ten years on, after much more blood has been shed in direct and indirect consequence of 9/11, what the longer term consequences of that day might be. Was it truly an ideologically-motivated attack on the values, morals and lifestyle of the West? Or was it something else – maybe something even more cynical? How deep, and how widespread, are the fracture lines that have radiated out from that single day of violence? Was it a one-off tragedy, or will it prove to have long-lasting repercussions?

I’d be interested to know what the media commentary is like. I believe that 60 Minutes is doing a big 9/11 feature. A short summary of their analysis would be much appreciated.

Other Stuff:

By serendipity, the book I am listening to at the moment – “The Unthinkable” by Amanda Ripley (see below) includes several interviews with 9/11 survivors. The book is about disasters and how humans react to them – and, most interestingly, how we can respond better when catastrophe strikes. It seems that, like many things, we can improve our resilience through training. By gaining experience in stressful situations, we can become better at handling them. So, on that basis, after 6 years of braving everything the capricious ocean can throw at me, I should be in good shape come what may.

The chaps downstairs are getting ever more boisterous – and ever more numerous. There must have been about twenty dorados milling around today, flicking water at me with their tails, and bumping against the boat. I do hope they are keeping the barnacles at bay.

I saw a ship today – the first one I have seen since setting out from the Abrolhos over four months ago. It looked like a large cargo ship, heading the same way as I am. I didn’t hail them. Just didn’t feel the urge.

Rachel in the Maldives – I’m afraid you would have to have very good eyesight indeed to see me from where you are. But I’m glad that your students are learning from my experiences – no matter where I may be!

Laurey – so very good to hear you sounding strong and optimistic. Tremendously pleased to hear you’ll be with us for a good long while yet. You’re a true inspiration.

Bob – “usufruct” – what a fantastic word. I also like the Native American philosophy that land cannot be “owned”, any more than the air or the sun can be owned. It is there to enable life, and as such belongs to all of us.

Stephen – since when has ANY word in the political arena been used to mean what it should mean?!

Quote for the day: “War would end if the dead could return.” (Stanley Baldwin)

Sponsored Miles: An anonymous donor sponsored ten of yesterday’s miles. From the higher numbers beyond Roz’s destination, thanks go to Keith Arnold.

Today has been a strange day on Planet Ocean. The wind was largely absent, just the occasional little waft of breeze lifting the British flag, now rather faded and tattered, that flies above the aft cabin. The ocean had no wind waves, just large, rolling swells at long intervals, and was strangely silent apart from the splashes of leaping dorados.

From my occasional vantage point atop a large swell, I could see dorados jumping in the distance, sometimes four or five consecutive leaps, like a stone skipping across a pond. Once, from the bottom of a swell, I saw a dorado jump from the top of the next swell, so it was silhouetted against the sky in mid-air, its body arcing and its tail waggling as if it was trying to gain just one more inch of altitude, before flopping back into the water. The chaps downstairs were also very active, jumping and flicking at the surface of the water, and turning slow circles in the shade of my boat.

Without the breeze it has been swelteringly hot. Truth be told, on this voyage I have rarely been able to row as nature intended – naked. It has generally been too chilly. But this afternoon when I noted the temperature for my NASA cloud observation, it was 40 degrees Celsius, or 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Even wearing just a sunhat felt like too much clothing, and I was glugging down the water as fast as it leaked out through my pores.

Today felt all the stranger because I know it is the lull before the storm. Impossible though it was to imagine in today’s conditions, the wind is forecast to reach 30 knots in a couple of days. So rather than being relaxing, the calm quietness had a rather sinister sense of foreboding.

Strange days indeed. Most peculiar, Momma (with thanks to John Lennon).

Other Stuff:

Jay – you asked who believed in me from the outset, before I rowed the Atlantic. I got generally great support from within the ocean rowing community – soon after I made my decision, I went to the Ocean Rowing Weekend in Torquay, Devon, and amidst much imbibing met a multitude of ocean rowers who were generous with time and advice. And then there was my first sponsor, Colin Habgood, a friend of a friend who got me off the starting blocks of fundraising. Much as I appreciated this early support – and am still grateful for the faith shown in me by these early supporters, I was dead set on rowing the Atlantic and would have done it regardless of what anybody thought.

Margo – your iPhone typo’d message made me laugh! Good to hear about the example of Iceland. Good for them. “No Impact Man” is great, isn’t it? I met the man himself on the Climate Ride. His book really made me think. Great stuff!

Doug – “always wear sneakers” (at least metaphorically) sounds like great advice. I also have to say, I am most impressed by your recent outdoorsiness. I don’t recall you being such a swimmer / mountaineer etc. Am I going to find you a slender shadow of your former self the next time I see you?!

Quote for the day: “For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather, every sky has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously.” (George Gissing)

Photo: the early days: me sitting in Sedna’s cabin before she was fitted out (2005)

Sponsored Miles: Miles rowed yesterday: Doug Grant, Julie West, John Miller. Those who selected numbers beyond her intended destination: Jeffrey Green, Larry Grandt, Claire Winstone. Grateful thanks.

–

Philosophy Friday

This Friday’s post is really a follow-on from yesterday’s blog in which I set out a short and optimistic vision of the future. As we already know, I am unashamedly an idealist, but as the song from “South Pacific” goes, “you’ve gotta have a dream/ if you don’t have a dream/ how you gonna have a dream come true?” Sports psychologists would agree.

Some people believe that the visualisation may be enough on its own – that by seeing it, meditating on it, and praying for it, good things will come to pass. That is fine. That is their way.

Me? I tend to take the view that while everything may come to he who waits, it will come a good deal faster to he who gets off the couch and does something to make it happen. I am a big fan of the To Do list.

When I decided to row the Atlantic, I had no clue how to do it. I knew how to row, but I hadn’t been to sea, and rowing across an ocean is more about seamanship and survival than it is about the finer points of rowing technique. So I sat down and wrote a huge To Do list – who to talk to, what books to read, what courses to take, what to buy, how much money to raise, and so on. If any single item on the To Do list looked too intimidating, I broke it down into smaller steps until it seemed more manageable. I knew that the list would grow as I went along and learned more, but at least I had a starting point.

Obviously, there is a world of difference between preparing to row an ocean – big though that challenge is – and manifesting a future for the world, or even for a single country. But just because the task is too big for a single person is no reason to give up entirely and resign oneself to being a mere passenger on this runaway train. We are all making a difference – it is up to each of us to choose what kind of a difference.

I know I am preaching to the converted here. From the comments on this blog, I know that many of my readers have already seen a vision of the future, and have carved out a niche where they can make a positive contribution towards making that vision come true – through supporting good causes, organic farming, campaigning against plastic, civil disobedience, raising their children to be environmentally responsible citizens, or whatever.

But there are still a lot of people out there who don’t believe in their own power to make a difference. They feel helpless, or hopeless, believing that anything they do is just a drop in the ocean, infinitesimal and insignificant. If I had to make a single wish for the world, it would be for every human being to realise that everything they think, say, and do MATTERS. With every action we are creating our future. We have the free will to choose our actions, and hence to influence the future of the world. There is no point in worrying about the future – it is so much more constructive, empowering, and exciting to DO something about it.

Other Stuff:

Today has been a vivid example of the longest journey not only beginning with a single step, but requiring a lot more single steps to reach a conclusion. A second day of calm weather, meaning no miles for free. Getting there slowly, one oarstroke at a time….

Quote for the day: “Always remember that the future comes one day at a time.” (Dean Acheson)

Photo: a gorgeous sunset while I was writing this blog.

Sponsored Miles: From now on we will be thanking two groups of people: Those who have sponsored miles recently covered by Roz: Chris Ferreira, Alexandra Stevens, Hans Verwey, Ian Hamby, Julie West; those who have selected numbers beyond her intended destination: Nick Perdiew and Alexandra Stevens.
We greatly value the many people who are supporting Roz in this way.

Today I entertained myself for a while by trying to imagine what life might be like 150 years from now. Why 150? No particular reason – except that by then I will be safely dead and you won’t be able to tell me how right or wrong I was.

These aren’t predictions. I wouldn’t be so presumptuous. But nor are they pure fantasy. They are, I suppose, a slightly rose-tinted view of where current trends – or backlashes against them – may take us.

Communities

People will devolve into smaller, self-governing communities, partly as a backlash against over-intrusive central government, but mostly because globalisation will prove to be too vulnerable to the vagaries of war, weather and turbulent economics. Jobs, food, and the administration of justice will become local affairs. Most people will walk to work, or will work from home. There will be a rise in “intentional communities” – like-minded people choosing to live in close proximity to each other, enabling them to pool resources such as arable land, farm machinery and vehicles.

Pasttimes

With the focus moving back to small communities, there will be a reaction against rampant consumerism. People will want to become creators rather than consumers, replacing retail therapy with the sense of satisfaction that comes from making something pleasing. There will be an upswing of interest in the old-fashioned skills of weaving, sewing, woodwork and other activities that result in a useful end product. Leisure time will be spent in knitting circles rather than shopping malls. People will chop wood rather than go to the gym.

Consumer goods

Items such as computers, washing machines and refrigerators will still be in demand, but customers will require that manufacturers produce goods that last. Most domestic technology will have stabilised, with the emphasis shifting from from innovation to quality. To offset the reduction in demand once artificially generated by built-in obsolescence, manufacturers will diversify into providing cost-efficient repair services in the home. Conspicuous consumption will fall drastically out of fashion, being regarded as vulgar and misguided. Goods will be admired for their durability and practicality rather than their newness or flashiness.

The internet, telecommunications and Facebook (or whatever replaces Facebook)

Data transfer – whether of web pages or human voices – will be available, wirelessly, everywhere, and the boundaries between the two will vanish. When you see on Facebook that it is somebody’s birthday, you will have the option to instantly call them up with a single click. A mini-hologram of them will appear in front of you (think Princess Leia’s recorded message in Star Wars), either in person or, of course, their voicemail.

Transport

With businesses becoming local, and telecommunications become almost indistinguishable from real life, the need for transport will decline significantly. The entire TSA will be disbanded (okay, I’m dreaming now). Travel will become mostly a leisure activity, with long annual vacations to explore interesting places. As such, there will be no particular hurry, and the journey will become as important as the destination. There will be a revival of surface travel, particularly by ship and train.

Finance

Many communities will start to barter, exchanging goods and services for other goods and services. As is already happening in several transition towns, local currencies may be created to facilitate this process. “Credit” will once again mean running a tab at the local pub or bar, rather than wielding a piece of plastic. Money will be seen as a means to an end, rather than an end in itself.

Food

There will be a reaction against over-processed foods and agri-business, as part of the “small is beautiful” philosophy and an increasing understanding of the mind-body connection. The current upwards trend in farmers’ markets will continue, until every community has at least a weekly market where people come to buy, sell and exchange locally-grown food. Along with the renaissance of domestic handicrafts, there will also be a renewed interest in cooking, baking and preserving. The “slow food” movement will come to predominate. With an increase in home-grown food and a decrease in low-nutrition fast food, obesity will decline and human health will once again improve.

There we go. I appreciate that it begs an awful lot of questions (global population being foremost) but this is a blog, not a book, so it isn’t meant to be comprehensive. I wanted this to be a short and sweet vision of the future – which, come to think of it, doesn’t look so different from a cleaned-up version of the past, with added technology.

Other Stuff:

The wind has died. RIP. It will be back in a few days. For now, the ocean is quiet. The dorados have been frisky today. Whenever I stop rowing for a meal break, they turn figures of eight beneath my boat, creating ripples as they break the surface. I can feel them banging against the hull, as if giving me a nudge to say, “get a move on”.

Quote for the day – two for the price of one today:

“The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” (Alan Kay)

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Photo: one of my fish-tastic friends

Sponsored Miles: Chris Vincent, Annabel Arndt, Robert O’Connor, Bonnie Sterngold, Tom Grimmett, Kevin Seid (Everpaddle), Ben Covington and an anonymous donor – all of these receive our thanks today for their spport.
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I don’t want to tempt fate, so I am knocking on wood and crossing my fingers as I type (not easy) – but I think I may actually make it to the end of this voyage without running out of anything vital – like toilet paper, Larabars, or functioning iPods.

I’ve been doing regular inventories since before halfway, and monitoring my consumption of various essentials. A tin of butter lasts me about 10 days, a jar of tahini 12 days, and so on. Where need be, I’ve rationed. Wet wipes, which I use for toilet tissue, looked to be a scarce commodity, but the Indian method works just as well, and I have infinite amounts of water while my watermaker continues to function. So now I’m feeling cautiously confident that I will make it to landfall without any serious decline in my standard of onboard living.

It makes me wonder why we’re not better at doing this collectively and globally. Given the finite nature of certain resources – fossil fuels, minerals and precious metals, endangered species – why aren’t we husbanding them more carefully?

I suppose the big difference is that there is one of me, but 7 billion of us worldwide. While I am on board Sedna, I have no competition for my limited resources. If I use them up too quickly, the only person who suffers is me. But globally, we seem to be in some kind of insane race to get our hands on scarce resources before somebody else gets to them first. It’s a zero sum game – I win, you lose.

Except, ultimately, we will all lose, unless we start thinking more holistically. And that is going to take one heck of a shift of consciousness. Pigs may fly before we achieve it. Mind you, I used to think that flying squid sounded improbable…. so you never know.

Other Stuff:

Things calming down out here. There was no need for me to pump out the deck lockers this morning, which made a nice change. The downside is that, despite a hard day’s rowing, my mileage was less than impressive. But at least it was all in the right direction.

Mum is out of her cast – hurrah!! She is now getting used to her newfound freedom. There have been many similarities between her plight and mine – it made me laugh when Mum pointed out that we both needed two sticks to get around – and although I am now envying her liberty to walk about, in about a month from now I, too, will be rediscovering the joys of walking.

Quote for the day: “God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fools.” (John Muir)

Sponsored Miles: Thank you to Tom Grimmett. Larry Grandt sponsored Roz, but is sadly no longer with with us.

The unfortunate casualty of my recent “in haste due to rough conditions” blogs has been my responses to readers’ comments. I am sorry about this. As I’ve mentioned before, Aimee diligently sends me a digest of comments every day via email, as I am not able to browse the internet from mid-ocean. And I look forward to seeing your comments. It makes my blog feel more like a conversation, and less like a monologue into the void.

In fact, I tend to think of my blog as a cocktail party. I am the hostess, so you all have to be nice to me And you are all my welcome guests.

Some of you have known each other for a long time (Doug, Jay, Joan, Rico, Laurey, Bill, the Johns) and some are relative newcomers. I am sure – or at least, I hope – that the old-timers make the new arrivals feel welcome, as it’s no fun arriving at a party where you don’t know anybody and not being able to get a word in edgeways.

Like at any lively party, people connect, and I get a real kick when I hear that emails have been exchanged, or people have met up in real life. When Laurey writes in to update us on her cancer treatment, or Joan shares her stories about the chickens (and hopefully in the future, the progress of her smallholding) it gives me a warm glow and a sense of community.

Another sign of a good party is the conversation takes on a life of its own. I gather there was some lively debate about whether it was okay for comments to go off-topic. Personally, I don’t have a problem with this – within the constraints of good manners, of course. I am rather starved for conversation out here, so it’s great to see a good, juicy, thought-provoking comment from time to time.

Hence, Rico, I thank you for sharing your top two fears: “global economic collapse” and “the coming police state”. While I personally feel that environmental issues trump all others (after all, if we humans are the authors of our own extinction, everything else is moot) I agree that there are other hugely important issues that we ignore at our peril. I tend to steer clear of them on my blog as being too political, but one day you and I must get together for that well-caffeinated coffee shop conversation.

Daniel, thank you for mentioning the word “conservationist”. This is a good word, and much less loaded than “environmentalist” has unfortunately become. It strikes me as ironic that, in the US at least, “environmental” has come to be identified with the political left, and thought of as progressive or liberal. First, I find it bizarre that the state of our planet has come to be a politically polarized issue, and second, the real point of “environmentalism” is to keep the ecosystem exactly as it is, or even better, as it used to be – and if that isn’t “conservative”, I don’t know what is. So “conservationist” sums this up well.

Marks_the_spot: I appreciated these words of yours: “I don’t believe there is any scientific way to quantify human ideals like right and wrong, fair and unfair, good and bad. Happiness is the measure I use for my interactions with the world and others. Long term happiness requires long term thinking. I am shaping the future of my children and I desperately want them to be as happy as possible…whew!” Happiness – especially the right kind of mindful, joyful happiness – is indeed a good measure. Thanks also for thanking Vic for his good work – he amply deserves all good praise!

Bruce: thanks for this thought: “I’ve been thinking that the difference in happiness and unhappiness boils down to one’s movement through life. There are two ways to conduct life: linear and circular. Linear is growth-oriented. Circular is acquirement-oriented. Linear allows for forward movement. Circular leads you back where you started on an endless mill.” I used to live on that endless mill, and I couldn’t agree more. An excellent image. We want our manufacturing processes to be circular, not linear, but our lives to be linear, not circular.

Mary, thanks for the Jack Layton quote: ‘Always have a dream that is longer than a lifetime.’

Joan – you would name a goat after me? Honoured, I’m sure! (Well, actually, I’m not quite sure…. a goat tried to eat my dress when I was about 4 years old, and I’ve been a little dubious about them ever since!

That’s all I have time for now, folks, but I wanted you to know that I do enjoy your comments and cherish your contributions. Thank you, thank you, thank you… from the middle of the big blue.

Other Stuff:

Still toughing it and roughing it out here. Conditions due to get calmer over the next few days. A HUGE dorado has moved in downstairs. He must be nearly 4 feet long. Have yet to see him belly-flop, but it would be quite a splash.

Quote of the day: “Sometimes it’s a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence.” (David Byrne)

Photo: a good party – Roz at the San Francisco Oxford & Cambridge Boat Race Dinner

Sponsored Miles: Stanley Miller, Leslie Layton and Thomas Weber – thank you. Roz rowed about 25 miles yesterday.

Fishy Friends

Once again, in haste, due to rough conditions. A couple of days yet before it is due to calm down.

I have really enjoyed the company of my fishy companions these last few days. Whether they are teeming around my boat, leaping into the air, or creating a frenzy at the surface of the ocean, they have become a constant and endlessly entertaining presence. A bit like the booby birds were on the mid-Pacific, but a lot less smelly. Quite possibly also more intelligent – surely impossible to be less so.

I am not sure I’m going to be able to eat fish again. It’s a tough one, as I already eat very little meat or poultry, for reasons environmental, ethical, and health-conscious. I never choose meat in restaurants, but do occasionally eat it when I am a houseguest. I have also given up shrimp and farmed salmon because they are so damaging to the marine environment.

Now it looks like it will be a show-down between my conscience and my tastebuds over fish in general. Will I ever again be able to contemplate a delicious fish fillet without thinking of my fine fishy friends?

Other Stuff:

Boatfillers galore today, but when not up to my ankles in water, it has been a pleasant and productive day out here on the big blue.

I spoke to Mum Sunday afternoon. She is off to the hospital tomorrow to see the specialist about her broken leg. Hopefully he will say they can take the cast off. And we then hope that she might be well enough, soon enough, to come out and see me make landfall. Please join me in wishing Mum all the very best at the consultation, and hoping she gets out of that cast pronto!

Joke for the day (as a change from a quote):
Q: How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Fish

Sponsored Miles: Thanks to Nick Perdiew, Stephanie Batzer and Hans Verwey for continuing support for Roz.

Blogging in haste again today, as conditions remain boat-tippingly rough. Not that I’m complaining – today was really quite enjoyable, absorbed as I was in Rob Lowe’s Stories I Only Tell My Friends: An Autobiography, which I have now, alas, finished. He reads it himself, and does great impersonations of the many famous people he mentions, including a classic Bill Clinton.

I got thinking about the better-known people I have met over the short course of my ocean-rowing career, who I most certainly would not have met if I was still working in a London office. The list includes: Leonardo di Caprio, Edward Norton, Glenn Close, plus numerous other actors, politicians, explorers, yachtsmen, authors, environmental campaigners, and more marine biologists than you can shake a stick at.

There are quite a few more people I would love to meet, too, such as Ted Danson for his work on ocean conservation, Prince Charles for his forward-looking initiatives, and Johnny Depp just because.

Even though I’m not a “People” or “Hello” magazine reader, it is undeniable that there is something indefinably alluring about the famous. I envy them their ability to bring attention to a cause. They are believed more than scientists or experts, or at least, more notice is taken of them, purely by dint of their being famous. George Clooney driving a hybrid probably does more for the cause than any number of earnest experts publishing their analysis of climate change. (Now there’s someone I’d like to meet – George Clooney – after Johnny Depp, of course.)

I can’t help but wish I had that kind of influence. But I’m working on it, and maybe by the time I’m through….

Other Stuff:

Episode 47 of “Roz Roams” – “News from the Purple Sauna” – is now live!

Quote for the day: “Everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” (Andy Warhol)

Photo: with esteemed deep sea pioneer “Her Royal Deepness” Dr Sylvia Earle at the Smithsonian

Sponsored Miles: Thankful to Carl Jones, Lars Rabbe, Christina Dennett, Andrea Dennett, Doug Grandt and to India John (Aimee Devine) for donating to today’s progress. Between them they have sponsored 25 of these miles.

Jumping Dorado

In haste once again, as it’s a bouncy old night here on the big blue ocean, and I’m keen to get safely horizontal and strapped in. But I wanted to check in and let you know that all is well on board the good ship Sedna.

It has been a challenging but productive day – sunny and windy and mountainous waves once again giving me fine views across the ocean. The chaps downstairs have been keeping me company, with clusters of 5 or 6 yellowfins frequently visible in the crest of a wave, lining up like surfers and whizzing down the front face as it rolls past me.

And I’ve figured out why the dorados jump so often. It’s so they can take a peek above the surface to check where their favourite FAD is and come back to me!

Other Stuff:

Today I finished one good book and started another, both of which have contributed to my good mood. The first was Straight Man by Richard Russo, one of my favourite authors since Leo Laporte introduced me to his books. A great read, and laugh-out-loud funny. The fish must have wondered what was causing such hilarity on board!

And the second recommendation is Stories I Only Tell My Friends: An Autobiography by Rob Lowe, the actor. Although I am not at all sure that the “Only” is in the right position in the title (Stories I Tell Only To My Friends, surely?) it is a great book so far. I’ve only listened to the first 3 or 4 hours, and already we’ve met Liza Minnelli, Martin Sheen, Charlie Sheen, Emilio Estevez, Janet Jackson and all three of Charlie’s Angels. The author is surprisingly self-effacing and likeable.

In fact, the book is so good that when my third and last set of Aquapac earbuds gave up the ghost this evening, I really had no choice but to retrieve my dry-land earbuds from the fore cabin – and this was no trivial task in 20-foot waves, believe me. It is simply the audio equivalent of a book that I can’t put down!

Quote: The trick is growing up without growing old. (Casey Stengel)

Sponsored Miles: Thanks go to Richard Hyman, Lars Rabbe and Carl Jones – all of them have sponsored a number of miles.

(Why Roz’s progress is not shown)

Roz at Machu Picchu, Peru

“An idea for a Philosophy Friday: Like you, my past life was control oriented and deadline driven. It consumed me. I have quashed many of my Type-A behaviors. But I am still unable to Trust the Universe, to believe that I am not try to control everything that happens in my life. I have a friend that has mastered this trust, and he is spiritual, calming, and truly happy.

Now I just have to figure out how to foster this trust.”

This sparked off some mid-ocean musings. At one stage I really had the hang of trusting the universe. It was just after I had stepped off the edge of my known world (job, marriage, home) and, contrary to my fears, had not fallen into a cold, dark limbo, but instead into an exciting, vibrant life full of freedom and potential. This is a fairly radical way to acquire trust in the universe. For me, it really, really worked in a very dramatic way, but it is not necessarily one I would recommend that you try at home. It can be a little traumatic for everybody concerned.

Shortly after that, I tested out my newfound trust by spending 3 months traveling alone in Peru. For the first time in my life, I chose my next steps intuitively rather than intellectually, and this powerfully reinforced my trust in the universe. I found travel a great way to let go of old ways of doing things, and to try out new ones. Being in unfamiliar surroundings helped me – in fact, forced me – to see things afresh.

The travel option is less radical than leaving husband, home, etc etc. – but there again, the bigger the leap of faith, the greater the level of trusting required and acquired. Like riding a bike for the first time, sometimes you just have to go for it. If you keep looking forwards and maintain your momentum, it will probably go well. But if you start to doubt yourself and look back, you are more likely to suffer a major wobble followed by a crash.

As to trusting the Universe in facing our environmental challenges, I agree that we too often focus on the problems, which creates feelings of combat and resistance. Personally, I would prefer to see us focusing on a different way of living that makes us happier and more fulfilled, and also just happens to be more sustainable. We need to focus on the positive, rather than on the problems.

Other Stuff:

After yesterday’s wonderful reprieve, today was a toughie. I passed that significant milestone, but there was little else today worth celebrating. Blown mostly sideways rather than forwards. Waves building to boatfiller proportions. Another iPod bit the dust, as did another set of Aquapac earbuds. I am down to my last set now.

Quote of the day: “Surrendering to life offers some wonderful realizations. We learn we’re capable of being in this dance, of working with whatever happens. We learn to trust ourselves and then others and, gradually, we learn that life itself can be trusted.” (Margaret Wheatley)

Sponsored Miles: Bonnie Sterngold, Stanley Miller, David Cameron, Nick Perdiew, Stephanie Batzer, Hand Verwey, Larry Grandt, Linda Leinen – your sponsorship is greatly appreciated.

Picture by Suwin Chan

There are some kinds of weather that, while spectacular, are best enjoyed from a place of relative comfort, security, warmth and dryness. Thunderstorms, snowfalls, wild windy nights. Today might have been extremely enjoyable if seen from the deck of a luxury cruise liner. From a small rowboat, not so much. Gorgeous blue ocean, white-crested waves, little puffy clouds. As my boat rose and fell on the twenty-foot swells I had a lovely view out across my domain, lord of all I surveyed.

But it was hellacious for rowing. For everything, actually.

We had the first knockdown (boat on her side) before I’d even finished breakfast this morning. I was just having my morning Larabar – kind of my pre-breakfast breakfast – and taking my vitamin pills when the wave hit. Luckily the lids were on all the vitamin pill pots, or it could have been a nutritional disaster. As it was, it wasn’t too bad. I was glad I’d tidied and stowed everything while I was on the sea anchor last week – there was a lot less to fly around the cabin than there might have been otherwise.

And the rowing has been tough today too. It is very difficult to get both oars in at the same time when the water on one side of your boat is several feet higher than on the other side. But I did my best – and I can’t do better than that. Got to keep just showing up and sticking those oars in the water – or one of them at a time, at least!

Other Stuff:

I wasn’t able to pick up incoming emails last night. I got my outgoing messages off, but then lost the Iridium signal and couldn’t then maintain it for long enough to receive incomings. So I haven’t received any recent comments from the blog. Sorry! In any case, I had best get horizontal as soon as I can. The forecast shows another 3 days of these rough conditions, during which blogs may have to be shorter than usual for safety reasons. Thank heavens for that, do I hear you say?!

Quote for the day: “But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads.” (Albert Camus) (Feel free to feminise at will)

Photo: this lovely artwork by Suwin Chan is a fairly accurate depiction of how the ocean looked today – waves and rowboat to scale!

Sponsored Miles: Some of today’s miles were sponsored by an anonymous donor.