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San Francisco, California

Use 1: Atlantic Row Day 48 – my fourth and last oar broke. I wasn’t even halfway across the ocean. I was determined to maintain my unsupported status so rather than calling for replacements, I had to make do and mend using only what I had on board – a telescopic boathook and duct tape. I used the boathook as a splint, and bound the whole thing tightly in duct tape. I would row with these cumbersome, patched-up oars for the next 1500 miles. [Illustrated above: note stylish silver duct tape on oars on both sides of the boat.]

Use 2: Duct Tape Wallet – if you should happen to find yourself in need of a wallet, and for some reason you don’t have access to a wallet shop but you do have access to a duct tape shop, here’s what to do.

Part 3: Duct Tape Case for your iPod Nano – no problem!

Hard to imagine the need arising, but you never know. Duct tape and cable ties – surely the most versatile DIY kit ever.

Oar before the repair

San Francisco, California

The Atlantic is 2935 miles across (although with all my meanderings I probably covered many more miles than that). That’s the distance from New York to San Francisco. I’ve tried to find a comparable distance in Europe, but even London to Athens is only a measly 2112 miles. So try this one…

Look at your hand. If that hand is an average hand it will measure about 7.5 inches from wrist to fingertip. If that hand was my boat, the distance I rowed across the Atlantic would be the same as the distance from Oxford to Cambridge. Imagine ‘walking’ that distance (80 miles) by putting one hand wrist-to-fingertip in front of the other.

Kakadu Golf Gloves have just renewed their sponsorship with me. I wore out 5 pairs of their kangaroo skin gloves crossing 3000 miles of Atlantic, so will probably need 15 pairs to cover 9000 miles across the Pacific. That must be almost an entire kangaroo’s-worth. And if you were ‘hand-walking’ from Oxford you’d probably be glad of them too.

San Francisco, California

Four short videos of my Atlantic row are now available for viewing online. Even if you read the dispatches you might not fully appreciate what it was like out there. If a picture speaks a thousand words, a video speaks ten thousand.

Parts 2 and 4 are my favourites, but 3 isn’t bad either. Nor is 1, come to that. Enjoy!

Part 1: preparations in the UK, boatbuilding, Henley, provisioning, setting out.

Part 2: storms, broken oars, broken comms equipment, but spirit intact – just about.

Part 3: 101 days gone, just 2 days to go. But the retrieval line to the sea anchor has snapped, so the sea anchor is hanging there like a ball and chain. Only one thing she can do… “

Part 4: after 103 days at sea, dry land at last! Arrival in Antigua – this is one very happy rower.”

Christ Church, Oxford

What a nice surprise, when something arrives on budget, ahead of schedule, and exceeds expectations.

I was living in my old college, University College Oxford, for much of June, and it seemed like a good opportunity to get my Atlantic blade painted up, as there are signwriters in Oxford that specialise in that sort of thing. But I was chatting with an aspiring ocean rower, Sarah Outen from St Hugh’s (conspicuously bald, having just shaved off her alopecia-stricken hair – watch out for her in ocean-rowing circles), and she recommended that instead of the signwriters I should go to the Clerk of Works at Christ Church.

So I tracked down Karl Lemar, blade in hand. This was one of the two oars that lost its spoon on the Atlantic, and at the time I’d chucked it in the forward cabin, already thinking it might make a good trophy. I’d then whiled away several rowing shifts designing a suitable symbol in my mind, but when I tried to draw my design on paper I couldn’t manage to make it look right.

So it was rather a half-baked idea that I presented to Karl. ‘Err, well I think I’d like the yin and yang symbol in the middle, and a compass, and a couple of crossed oars, with maybe a dolphin and a rose in there somewhere.’

Turned out Karl was no stranger to the sea himself, having spent 25 years as a submariner, and although he was a man of few words, I got the impression he was pleased to help.

Front of Blade

Detail on Back of Blade

I am very impressed and extremely pleased with the results. He’d brought all the elements together with far more artistic flair than I’d managed in all my hours of pondering. I’ve already booked him in to do the Pacific oars – although hopefully those spoons will have to be cut off rather than being severed by the force of waves in mid-ocean.

24 March 2006

Back to life, back to ‘reality’

Huge apologies for recent silence… and I don’t even have the excuse of a non-functioning satphone now. My feeble excuse is that life has been hugely hectic and a logistical nightmare – on my boat everything I needed was within 23 feet, but back here in England, and without a home to call my own, it has been a challenge to get myself to where I need to be, on time and suitably clothed. There have been times when I’ve yearned to be back on my little boat bobbing around in the big blue, when life was relatively simple.

I got back to England on Monday and spent a couple of days with Natalie, my old rowing friend-turned-nutritional therapist, in Emsworth. I popped down to the Dolphin Quay Boatyard to catch up with the guys and let Richard Uttley, boatbuilder extraordinary, know just how well Sedna had performed.

Now I’m back in London for a few days before I cross the Atlantic yet again to give a speech in New York. While I’m not recognised in the street here the way I was in Antigua, there is enough media interest to make life interesting. In the last week there have been various newspaper and magazine interviews, and I’ve been on BBC South and Channel Five News – the latter fortunately was on the day of the fundraising party on HMS President (courtesy of Cdr Mike Pearey and the Royal Navy) so I was able to turn up still wearing my studio makeup, i.e. looking significantly more glamorous than usual.

The party was a great success, raising more than ?5000 for the Prince’s Trust, thanks largely to the magnificent efforts of our guest auctioneer Mr Nick Bonham from the famous auction house.

In the midst of all this activity I’m struggling to keep that little kernel of serenity and strength that I tried to nurture in the latter stages of the row. When I was in Antigua I looked back on the race and wondered which was the dream and which was the reality, and similarly I now find myself wondering which was the real Roz – the one I finally found out there on the ocean, or the one who seems to be re-emerging now I’m back on dry land. I’m desperate not to forget all that I learned out there, but this will be at least as big a challenge as the row itself. But if I do forget, then what was the point of it all?

(Apologies for lack of photo – for some reason the dispatch interface won’t accept my photo selection. Technology – pah!)

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20 March 2006

Together with the flare on arrival day.

20th March

Roz is very kindly allowing me to do another dispatch! When I went out on the RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat) we met up with Roz 4 miles out of English Harbour, and her first words were “We did it!” The hug had to wait until she was ashore; until we had tied up the rib and forced a way through the crowd of people, with the lighted flare.
What I really aim to say is how much we appreciate the welcome and help which we received on Antigua: local Antiguans, English people now living on Antigua, and people we met aboard yachts just visiting Antigua. From beginning to end they have been so enthusiastic and generous that it has been an amazing and wonderful experience. We could not have managed without their homes, phones, computers, hands, advice, knowledge, generosity, interest, fenders, buckets, boats, cars etc etc. Just saying thank you is hardly adequate, they all deserve medals!
Both Roz and I have also been overwhelmed by the messages of congratulation by email, and also people who live on the island recognizing us as we gone about our business, stopping to have a word and shake our hands.
Some of my earlier dispatches were full of ‘thankyou’s, and here we go again, but we are SO grateful for the comments and interest shown by so many people. It has been a fascinating experience for me – when I wasn’t worrying about Roz!

PS Just a reminder about the Party/Charity Auction on Thursday 23rd: it would be great to see you there, but please remember that we are not issuing tickets: WE NEED TO KNOW if you are coming, and YOU need to bring photo ID because of the Royal Navy security rulings. Do use Roz’ home page to send messages and/or payment. Thanks, Rita Savage.

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15 March 2006

Just outside English Harbour, Antigua, the welcome begins.

15th March

It’s been less than 48 hours since I arrived in Antigua, and my feet have barely touched the ground, and after all this time yearning to get my feet back on solid ground too.

Right now I feel like I’m dreaming and that I’m going to wake up and find that I’ve got yet another day of rowing to do, but maybe I’ll soon start to feel that this is the reality and it was the rowing that was a dream.

I still get occasional bouts of groundsway, but they’re becoming less frequent. I’ve also still got the driving rowing rhythm going through my head – the beat that helped me get through the final days of my row, a constant repetition of affirmative mantras in time with my oarstrokes. It worked well in the boat but on dry land it’s driving me crazy. It’s over, I keep telling my brain, you don’t have to row any more.

I’ve been on a constant high since I arrived in Antigua, overwhelmed by the warm hospitality of the people here, and flattered by the attention of media here and in the UK. There has been a constant stream of people wanting to come and shake my (still very sore) hand, and to congratulate me on my achievement.

If you didn’t see the photo of my arrival added belatedly to yesterday’s dispatch, check it out now. How big is that grin?! And it’s weird to see how skinny I look – like a smile on a stick. I was able to weigh myself yesterday – 102lb or 7st 4lb or about 46kg – so I’ve lost about 30lb or 14kg on the way across. The Atlantic Diet – effective, but a toughie.

I’ve been catching up on some of the emails that Mum received during what I’m calling my Space Oddity period – the three and a half weeks between my satphone dying and my arrival in Antigua. Clearly there was a lot of speculation about what was happening, both with my comms and with my erratic progress across the ocean. There was a lot going on, too much to put into one dispatch, but I’ll give a quick summary here.

17th Feb: satphone stops working. Suspect the connection between the handset and the antenna is shorting out. Peter Beardow at 7E had told me that ocean rower Dom Mee had this problem and they suggested he use a chocolate wrapper to fix it, but didn’t say what sort of chocolate wrapper (foil or paper?) or what to do with it. Attempt all kinds of creative things with both paper and foil but no success.

Initially rather pleased to have total peace and quiet and solitude, an opportunity to find out who I am when I’m not being someone’s daughter or friend or blogger, but as time wears on and the last miles prove to be fraught with problems, there are times when I wished I had at least access to weather and eddy information.

27th Feb: being pushed NE by eddy – ever further from Antigua

1st March: discover that I’d mis-plotted the location of finish line by 1?, so instead of having 197 nautical miles to go I still have nearly 250. Faintly depressing.

2nd March: make VHF contact with USS Pomeroy. Manage to get message to Mum and Woodvale to let them know that it’s only the satphone that’s died, not me.

4th – 6th March: at the mercy of wind and eddies, being pushed the wrong way. More yell therapy.

6th – 9thMarch: sea like a mirror, and hot, hot, hot. Rowing hard, feel like my brain is boiling in my skull. Ocean seems enormous, feel like I will never get to Antigua.

10th March: disaster. Had put out Sid the sea anchor to try and halt south drift. It doesn’t work, and when I try to retrieve him the tripline fails – for some reason it’s not deflating the parachute. Spend an hour hauling on the dead weight of a ton of seawater, tying a slipknot and securing it into a karabiner to preserve progress made. Get Sid within 20 feet of boat but now trying to pull upwards as well as across, strength failing. See passing ship and dash into cabin to get on VHF radio. While in cabin the tripline breaks altogether. More yell therapy. No way I can now retrieve Sid, as his main line is too thick to be secured into karabiner. During VHF contact asked the ship (the Boston) to summon Aurora.

11th March: stuck on Sid, waiting for Aurora. Finally have fantastic surfing conditions (albeit still pushing me south) but can’t go anywhere anyway. Frustration. Aurora had given ETA lunchtime. Spend afternoon issuing increasingly forlorn pleas on VHF trying to contact them. Decide to take matters into my own hands – set up safety line across roof of forward cabin by lassoing the bow cleat and resolve to cut Sid’s line first thing in the morning if still no sign of Aurora.

12th March: psyched up to go out across the cabin roof despite rough seas. Emerge from cabin to see Aurora nearby. I ask them to keep an eye on me and be ready to save me if safety line fails, then wait until first light and clamber out onto cabin roof, knife clenched between my teeth. Get halfway across then slide off curved roof into the sea. Safety line holds and I clamber back on. Succeed in cutting the line. Retreat to safety of the cockpit and start rowing.

13th March: up at 0400 to start rowing. By 0700 Antigua is in sight. Survive on caffeine and slurps of sugar syrup to fuel 10 hours of non-stop rowing to make it into English Harbour to an incredible welcome. I don’t stop grinning for about 24 hours. I’ve done it.

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“Roz has spent an unbelievable 103 days in a 24-foot boat, on her own. This is an incredible adventure. I admire her stamina and determination… This must have tested her resources to their limit.”
Sir Steve Redgrave, quintuple Olympic gold medal winner

In 2005, Roz Savage became the first woman to complete the Atlantic Rowing Race – solo.

She set out from the Canary Islands with 3,000 miles of empty ocean ahead of her, carrying nothing more could be squeezed in her boat. Alone and with no support, Roz fought storms that broke every one of her oars before she had reached halfway, and also claimed her camping stove, stereo, and cockpit navigation instruments.

As the Atlantic Ocean gradually reduced her boat to the bare essentials, Roz’s voyage captured the attention of people all over the world. Despite her testing circumstances, Roz managed to keep a blog that she updated by satellite phone.

Her determination to never surrender in the face of almost overwhelming conditions struck a chord with thousands around the globe. People stayed tuned as she repaired her oars, was blown backwards by adverse winds, and hit the wall – both physically and mentally. Roz’s blog entertained and, more importantly, inspired readers worldwide.

Roz wasn’t just showing that she had what it took to make the change from city worker to transatlantic rower. She was showing that we all have the strength within us to be the people we truly want to be. It also enlightened people about the state of the world’s oceans, a resource that is all too often taken for granted.

When, on the 17th of February, Roz’s satellite phone, too, succumbed to the harsh conditions onboard, Roz was presented with the toughest challenge of the entire row – total isolation from the world, with nearly four weeks of the race still to go.

But she persevered, and twenty-four days later, at twelve minutes to six in the evening GMT, Roz crossed the finish line and rowed into the history books.

2,935 miles.

103 days.

24 feet of boat.

4 oars.

1 woman.

14 March 2006 | ANTIGUA!

Arriving to an amazing welcome in Antigua yesterday -
see the size of that grin!

14th March

Hello from one very happy ocean rower, now chilling out in Antigua, enjoying good food and warm hospitality… and wishing the ground would stop swaying.

Yesterday I got up at 4am to start rowing. With the finish line finally in sight I rowed nonstop for 10 hours to make sure I got to Antigua before sunset. If only I’d realised earlier I was capable of such rowing feats I might have got here weeks ago!

I had no idea what kind of a welcome awaited me. I’d envisaged pulling in at a jetty, giving my mum a hug, and then pottering off for a bite to eat. I certainly hadn’t expected a flotilla of boats coming out to greet me, hundreds of people standing on the quayside, a choir of schoolchildren singing to me, and presentations from a series of local dignitaries. After months of solitude and silence it was pretty overwhelming. And really, really good.

There’s so much to catch up on since I last wrote, but my laptop battery is about to go flat, so it will have to wait. I’ll try to post some photos later today – I’ve never been so skinny or so brown so I’m going to show it off while it lasts!

Thank you for all the messages of congratulations that I’ve received so far, and thanks also for all the messages of support that were sent to my mother, especially during my ‘Space Oddity’ phase since the satphone packed up. All very much appreciated.

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13 March 2006

13th March

Excitement! It is 8am in Antigua. I have just had a phone call from Teresa at Woodvale. Aurora is with Roz. Her sea-anchor was giving problems, she could not haul it in. Aurora kept watch while Roz cut it free. She is now still rowing, quite unassisted, and only 27 miles to go! Isn’t that6 marvellous!
There are loads of emails this morning, I wonder if I can read them all before I need to do something else?
There is free wireless internet access at a restaurant just down the hill from where I am staying. A barrier was still across the entrance when I came down this morning, but I sneaked in, and am sitting up on a balcony, under the trees, looking over the harbour, and enjoying another sunny warm morning. Sorry folks in England, having to look at snow instead – and I can’t even send you a picture.
This may be my last dispatch – then over to Roz. Thanks for your support. Rita.

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12 March 2006

12th March
1643.01N,6049.01W,0M
Roz really has been unfortunate with the weather. Once again she has been stuck because of adverse winds -1 mile yesterday. Jonathan, here on the Island, and part of the sea rescue team, guesses that Aurora the support yacht will offer Roz a pair of oars, and if she still can’t make headway, a tow. The forecast shows that winds won’t change before Wednesday. Other boats had similar problems on the approach to Antigua.
It does mean that she would lose her unsupported status in the race, but nothing can take away her achievement in crossing the Atlantic Ocean. It will be a disappointment after struggling for so long, but Roz did start out not as a competitor, but with the aim of making the crossing.
I feel awfully frustrated waiting here for her -especially as I just cannot get the technology to work as I would wish – and a friendly expert was no more successful! Roz must be feeling even more frustrated and disappointed just sitting there and trying to not be blown backwards or southwards.
We are both due to fly back to the UK on Sunday, and time is running out.
Thank you so much for your sympathetic messages, so sorry I can’t answer them individually.

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11 March 2006

11th March

Today, Saturday, the support yacht Aurora has set out to meet Roz and accompany her back to English Harbour, Antigua. The weather has decided to unkind again. How frustrating to be so near, 70 miles away, and not be able to move because the wind wants to blow Sedna Solo further south. Roz has probably put out Sid the para-anchor and has to just sit and wait.
Meanwhile back here in Antigua I am making arrangements for a video film to be made of her arrival, and also for me to go out on a boat to meet her when she is within ten miles of the harbour. We won’t try to exchange hugs at that point!
Today has been very wet so far, and even if Roz was within binocular-spotting distance, the horizon is hidden in rain squalls. I have been equally frustrated by technology – sorry there is no picture again. What a (technology) wash-out.
I have been able to print out a lot of wonderful messages that have come in for Roz to read at her leisure. I think that she will be deeply moved by them, as I have been.

Sponsored miles: Mary Malinsky 2929 – n umbers with special meaning for her.
2934 India Pearey, and 2935 Sailing Unlimited. These last two seem to represent the short walk Roz will have from the dock to Admiral’s Inn where she is booked in for a few nights, in Nelson’s Dockyard.

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10 March 2006

10th March

Tomorrow, Saturday, I will be going to visit some kind friendly local people who will allow me to use their computer, and their binoculars if that seems appropriate. I can use Roz’ laptop with a free internet connection at a bar/restaurant just down the road which is very convenient, but as you may realise, there is a problem with putting a picture on the dispatch. Also I need to move out before the evening customers start arriving.
It is 6pm here now, 10pm by Greenwich Mean Time, and Roz has about 71 miles still to go. The horizon from a hill is about 40 miles out to sea as far as I can remember. Maybe I won’t need those binoculars until later in the day tomorrow.
Once again there is a slightly nail-biting situation – her present position is 16.56N, 60.42W. Some days ago Roz was too far south; then she was too far north; now she really needs to be going west, but just slightly north as well.
Realistically we think that Roz will arrive Sunday morning. If she pushes on too fast and gets here Saturday night there will be some disappointed people! The children from the Island Academy have been practising a song specially for her, with very appropriate words. They are prepared to wear their school uniforms on Sunday if necessary, to be ready to greet her. Many other people too are eagerly watching for news of her arrival.
Once again my grateful thanks for the many messages arriving conveying congratulations, hugs and kisses – for Roz, but also some kind words for me. I shall miss all of this when Roz takes over, but will really be delighted to have her back on the job. (I think that you will, too!)

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09 March 2006

9th March

The tide happens to be a flood of messages congratulating Roz on attaining the point where she is recorded as having crossed longitude 59.37, which was actually at 07.09 GMT on Wednesday 8th (her 99th day). Somebody has queried my use of 99 days, but I was taking that figure from the Atlantic Rowing Race website, which differed by one day from Roz’ running total. Grateful thanks for the lovely messages that have been arriving.
Another message had the words “the sound you hear is my clapping” – it wasn’t acutally what I was hearing, it was rain on the roof. So when David said that Roz would soon be on DRY land he was a bit mistaken, it is more likely to be a bit muddy!
Here on Antigua we were so hoping that Roz would get her mileage down to less than 100 to go today, but once again the weather is being unkind and the wind is proving less than helpful. She did do 22 today, so has another 110 to go.
Once again I am not sure whether I will be able to add a picture this evening or not. Watch this space.
Another sponsored mile: thanks to Rob and Cindy Owen with 2809 – she has now done 2821.

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08 March 2006

Entrance to English Harbour, Antigua

8th March
1725.01N,5945.01W,0M
Roz has crossed the Atlantic in fewer than 100 days! She has passed the magic longitude of 59 degrees 37 minutes. 135 miles to go to reach the Woodvale Race Finishing Line at Cape Shirley, Antigua.
There was a heartstopping moment this morning when those of us who check the race website found Sedna Solo totally missing. Whatever the cause she is now safely re-installed, along with the news that she has done 21 miles so far today. It is not yet 2 o’clock here so Roz still has some hours of daylight ahead of her. If she is out there on the deck rowing in this heat I feel sorry for her. I went paddling around the harbour in a kayak this morning and felt I needed to cover up as protection from the hot sunshine. I will try to add a picture to this site before I pack away the computer, but not having my own computer here, I am not too sure of how to do it satisfactorily. Apparently the last pictures that I added were rather large in number of bytes. The island is so pretty, it would be a shame if I can’t do it. I am fascinated by the tiny hummingbirds, about the size of my thumb, with their shiny irridescent green bodies and swiftly moving wings.

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07 March 2006

An empty space awaiting the arrival of Sedna Solo
in Nelson’s Dockyard

7th March

If you were at all concerned about Roz’ lack of progress over the weekend, then do take a look at the Atlantic Rowing Race website under the heading of News. Woodvale give a good explanation of what has been happening as a result of the weather.
Today Antigua is again hot and suuny, with the wind blowing in the right direction, and Roz is moving again.
Meanwhile here are a couple of pictures of the historic Nelson’s Dockyard when the boat will eventually arrive. It will be a disappointment for the Island Academy if Roz does not arrive on a schoolday, as the parents have organised a rota of cars to get the children down to the harbour. Let’s hope she can make it by Friday.

A shady spot for those who wait.

Meanwhile Roz is rapidly approaching longitude 59.37 which is the official mark for succeeding in crossing the Atlantic. The race finishing mile is more than a few miles further on yet. We await her arrival eagerly.
Meanwhile, thanks to those who are continuing to send kind messages to Roz and myself.

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06 March 2006

6th March

Just a brief interim report until I get organised here with photographs. All day yesterday was spent travelling, in fact I was on the go for nearly 24 hours and began thinking “Air travel is for the birds – and they are better at it. No long check-in times.”
I was shocked when I did eventually get onto the internet about midday today – about 4pm your time in Britain – to see the Roz had only done 4 miles yesterday. I have met Lucy from Woodvale, and also phoned her when I saw the figure 4. She has been very reassuring, and it is a fault with the weather. The wind was blowing in quite the wrong direction and Roz looped a loop. After that she probably had to put out Sid the para-anchor and just sit it out. Today the wind has changed. I can hear it whistling around the house now, and with a bit of luck will be pushing Roz on quite nicely. It may prove to be a disappointment for the Island Academy if she does not arrive on a school day. We were really hoping that she would make it on Thursday. It may yet happen if that wind co-operates. I can see the school from the house where I am staying; and with the help of a lovely friend I have been to the harbour and seen where the boats come in.
More news as time goes by. Rita.

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04 March 2006 Part of a chart from www.weatheronline.

4th March

On the 6th February Woodvale issued a statement headed Notification of Rule Amendment under the heading of News on their website. It states that the official crossing line for the completion of the Atlantic Ocean Rowing Crossing is set at 59degrees 37minutes west. Any vessel passing this line will be classed as completing the ocean crossing. However, to achieve a race ranking boats do need to reach the Finish Line of the Atlantic Rowing Race which is 1 nautical mile south of Cape Shirley, Antigua. I notice that boats moored there at English Harbour are at longitude 61.765 west. Roz is at present at 58.810. She is therefore very close to the first goal, that of crossing the Ocean; a bit further to go to cross the race finishing line.
Meanwhile we who watch are left on a roller-coaster ride. I watched anxiously as she moved west and south, willing her to move a bit further north. Now that she is north of latitude 17, the wind is blowing from the south east and moving her a bit further north than she wants to be. The “picture” tonight is part of a weather chart from www.weatheronline and shows where Roz is – in the middle row, more or less in the centre of the block on the right. It shows the wind blowing from the south east, but not very strong at all. Antigua is in the next block to the left, half-way up. Roz has not moved very much today so far but still has a few hours of daylight left. Whatever the weather charts show, she still has to deal with conditions as she finds them and we can only guess at what is happening. The question remains: will she or won’t she do it in fewer than 100 days?

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03 March 2006

It won’t be long before Roz sees land again . . .
and it won’t be La Gomera.

3rd March

Great excitement today! this morning there was an email from a commercial ship: “Hey all, 2300Z (or thereabouts) March 2. I just passed Roz in position 17-01.145N X 058-05.393W. She sounds good, says she needs nothing and would appreciate it very much if I wouldn’t run her over with my 950 ft long ship. She asked a very understandable question as our conversation developed…”Do I sound sane to you, Martin?”…Ha! I couldn’t bring myself to say…’Well Roz, you did leave the Canary Islands in a rowboat three months ago’, so I said…’Sure!! Roz, it was a pleasure to talk to you.’ Martin”

There followed an exchange of emails as I enquired if there was any further crumb of information after two weeks of silence. One reply confirmed that the problem was indeed satphone failure. There was also a phone call direct from the ship, so Roz had obviously given them my telephone number in spite of the fact that she thought I might already be in Antigua. Thanks guys!

Further exciting news is that she is back above latitude 17 degrees and the wind is ESE, blowing her slightly north instead of south, for a change. Roz will probably have less than 200 miles to go by the time you read this message.

I have received some lovely messages from people in Antigua welcoming me and offering help in various ways. It will be wonderful to be there amongst them all.

Sponsored mile: Sebastian Pearey, your mile at 2739 is coming up very soon.

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02 March 2006

2nd March

If you read the News section of the Atlantic Rowing Race website, you will see that it is headed: Come in Boat No.15 – Sedna Solo. Also mentioned is the fact that once the boats arrive, further scrutineering takes place to assess whether any race penalties would be applied. As Roz has not had any assistance to date, one thing that will be examined is the status of her fresh water ballast bottles. As you can see in the picture, the bottles were sealed before departing from La Gomera. If water-making gadgets break down crews need to use their ballast for drinking water, and this incurs penalty points. Up to the point where we lost contact, I do not think that Roz had had to use any of hers. Since then, has she, or hasn’t she? That is the question.
Today arriving home about 4.30pm, I checked the Woodvale site to see what mileage Roz had done, and was dismayed to see no sign of movement since first thing this morning. A phone call to Teresa at Woodvale sorted that out. Apparently the battery of the first beacon that Roz had been using since November 30th had run flat. She had switched to another beacon, but this had not yet been ‘tuned in’ to the Woodvale software. What a relief! By 5pm she had done 27 miles, and being 4 hours behind GMT still had some hours of daylight left. She is also very very near to latitude 17. The signs are good.
Grateful thanks to people for more delightful messages (e.g. it’s increasingly difficult to live and work with all fingers and toes crossed!), and those who have recently made contributions to the Prince’s Trust. A reminder to those who have paid for a place at The Party that they will need to bring along photographic identification on the night. Details of the party on the home page of Roz’ website, including a pdf file of the invite which can be downloaded.

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01 March 2006

1st March

If you watched the TV programmes about Ben Fogle and James Cracknell you may recall seeing Ben on the deck of their boat punching the air and shouting those words. When I saw that Roz had done 44 miles yesterday, and moved up to 1655.74 degrees of latitude it all seemed so exciting and a real beginning to count down. Combined with my own preparations to fly there, confirmation of accommodation and other vital details, I can hardly wait! A few more days to go yet.
There may be a day or two without a dispatch, but I promise that there will be some news and pictures when the BIG DAY arrives. There are still a few more sponsored miles on the list – one received today – so before I depart I will give the names. Two of them are actually after arrival in Antigua, presumably to be celebrated at English Harbour.
No news from Roz, and, of course, no news from Monty. I was looking through our photographs and came across this one that I took of Monty and his lifejacket, sitting on an alpaca skin seat cover. Roz had asked me to make a lifejacket for Monty in the same colours as hers – red and blue. I was not sure how to get hold of small pieces of red and blue material until I saw something outside a charity shop on a bargain rail. It was a pair of dungarees for a toddler and cost me all of 50p. My apologies to Asda and “George”, but the little sign on the front bib just seemed appropriate “I am a Winner” and the number 23. Roz’ birthday is on the 23rd. When Roz finishes the voyage she will be a winner, but let us not forget that Monty too has endured the crossing!
(For overseas guests, Asda supermarkets are owned by Wal-Mart and George is the brand name of the clothes they sell.)

Miles rowed today so far: 34

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28 February 2006

Oar repairs with Sikaflex, flattened boat hook and cable ties.

28th Feb.

No, not referring to Roz’state of undress.
Each day I hear about new people logging onto Roz’ website – most welcome, but they don’t know half the story! I am therefore going to give some quotes from earlier dispatches to summarise what Roz has been through:

(Day 47) Roz did suffer a knock-down today, worse than the previous one on Thursday 5th January, but came upright again. She has great confidence in her boat and its ability to self-right. The para anchor and drogue both went overboard but she struggled and got them back on again.
Roz does not expect to sleep much tonight, and is also concerned about salt-water sores due to sleeping in a wet bed.

(Day 49) When I told my mother about the latest casualties she commented, ‘The ocean is really stripping you down, isn’t it?’. And this is true, metaphorically as well as literally. As I’m left with less and less, it makes me realise how little I actually need, how little is actually important.

Updated Casualty List

New entries:

4th and final oar now damaged – so I have:
Magic bendy oar – irreparable
Oar with no spoon – irreparable
Oar with spoon almost broken off – Sikaflexed and splinted
Oar with shaft broken close to gate (rowlock) – splinted

I’m amazed and rather indignant about the two broken spoons. These oars were properly stowed alongside the guardrail oars, i.e. with the spoons 4ft clear of the water, and supposedly protected by the guardrail spoons – yet one broke clean off and the other nearly so. For this sort of pressure to be exerted, 4ft above the waterline, on both sides of the boat… That must have been some knockdown.

And more losses overboard:
Thermos mug #2 (1 remaining) with dinner inside
Drinks bottle #2 (1 remaining)
Lip salve #2 (2 remaining)
Bag for para-anchor line
2 buckets (1 remaining)
Alpaca skin seat cover #2 (1 remaining)

Plus flooded lockers:
#5 – beneath aft cabin. Relatively empty, fortunately, but cosy dry alpaca socks as special treat (courtesy of Alpaca Centre near Penrith) are cosy and dry no more
#7 – grab bags and lifejacket are swimming
#13 – jerrycans and cleaning materials. Deliberately left flooded for added ballast.

Plus previous casualties:
Petzl head torch (contacts rusted)
Camping stove – plunger jammed
Navigation instruments
Stereo
Thermos mug
Lid off thermos flask
Spoon
Drinks bottle
Storage jar
Alpaca skin seat cover
Lip salve
Milton fluid
…and a comfy foam cushion for sitting on.

And now since 17th February the satphone.
I am not too concerned that she only achieved 18 miles yesterday, as she is very obviously having to work hard to get further north. One email that I had today was from Caroline who is clearly reading the signs in just the same way. Or maybe she had to repair an oar again? Another email messager suggested that I should take some flapjack to Antigua. This is already in hand, courtesy of the mother of a friend of Roz’ in the 1980s.

How would you feel with ONLY 330 more miles to row?

Sponsored mile: 2607 Mark Merritt, the numbers represent his son’s birthday! Happy birthday, and thank you.

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27 February 2006

What we are waiting for!

27th Feb.

Roz, when I last spoke to her ten days ago, was very eager to reach the end of the voyage in less than 100 days. The question now is whether she will or not.
Looking at her mileage for days 79 to 89, she was averaging 38.4 per day. She has another 366 miles to cover in the remaining days from 90 to 99. That gives an average of 36.6 miles needed per day. She can do it! That would please the children of the Island Academy, as she would probably arrive on a weekday some time next week.
It would please me too, as it gives me time to reach Antigua before she gets there. It has been an anxious time wondering what she is thinking and how she is feeling. Before she left she gave me instructions about what to do if there was no news of her at some stage. Thus I was left with the dilemma when her satphone no longer worked: was she needing me to alert the race organisers and rescue services, or was she hoping and praying that I would not act too hastily and call them out unnecessarily. I just had to know whether she was actually on the boat and that it was not moving with the wind and the waves. I felt troubled in case Roz was desperately longing for me to act whilst I just sat at home watching figures on a computer screen.
I trust that I did the right thing by doing nothing. People have been very good at assuring me that all is well, both in email messages (thank you) and the Woodvale race organisers. I shall be extremely happy to give her a great big hug at English Harbour, Antigua, next week!

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26 February 2006

26th Feb.
1637.26N,5555.5W,OM
Having been away from home for two days, I turned eagerly to renew contact with my daughter Roz. It is not much fun talking to a purple dot on the computer screen! The Atlantic Rowing Race website shows that purple dot drawing ever closer to Antigua. It is good to see that only 387 miles remain before reaching English Harbour. What was not quite so encouraging to see was that the dot has moved a bit further south again. Roz really is struggling to make it back to latitude 17 degrees. A bit like a yoyo recently. We can but wait and watch for the next few days as she gets nearer and nearer to her goal of crossing the Atlantic.
Just a short dispatch tonight, I have a bit of catching up to do on emails that accumulated in my absence. It is good to meet up with so many people who tell me that they are avidly watching Roz’ progress. Grateful thanks to you all.

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24 February 2006

Simrad Navigation System Panels

24th Feb.

Have you explored the links on Roz’ Voyage website? I wonder whether you have seen her list of people on her team, and the list of sponsors? These are the people and organisations who have made her crossing of the Atlantic possible. Some have given money, others time and energy or goods in kind.
Many other people, not named, have been and still are contributing by carrying out vital tasks to help Roz. She and I are most grateful for their support, and work done on her behalf.
When I put the picture on her dispatch page last night I did wonder whether people would be aware of Wholebake and their products. They kindly supplied her with samples of their products in the months of preparation, and a large number of bars of flapjack in a variety of flavours for the voyage itself. The 9bars are made up of nine types of seeds and nuts, with a layer of chocolate on top. All natural ingredients, nutritious and satisfying.
There is a team in London working to organise the welcome back party on March 23rd. A reminder therefore that the details are on the Home Page of this website.
It is good to see the miles being covered by Roz in recent days, and the fact that the boat is once again moving a bit northwards to get back to the latitude of 17 degrees.
I will probably not be doing a dispatch on Saturday evening as I am planning to visit friends this weekend.
There are some sponsored miles looming in the near future, so I will list them on this dispatch: 2496 Iona Pearey; 2500 Brian Yates. Special thanks and greetings to these kind people. Thank you too for the messages of reassurance to me at this anxious time, and to those who have recently made donations.
(Rita Savage, in the absence of any communication from Roz)

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23 February 2006

Roz with 9Bar by Wholebake – still some left after flapjack all eaten up.

23rd Feb.

I have been asking myself the question: What would Roz want me to write about? There are probably quite a few things that she would not want me to write about – family anecdotes that would make her blush. Perhaps it would be safer to stick to questions that people ask. Amongst quite a number of messages today, somebody asked whether Roz would still have enough food left on her boat.
Initially each rowing crew was asked to take enough food for 90 days. She did, in theory, have more than enough, and even gave away some while we were in La Gomera. Roz is really really hoping that she can complete the crossing in less than 100 days. However, I think the answer is yes, she does have enough – though probably not the things that she would choose to eat. There were days when she found it very difficult to eat anything much; she had plenty of sachets of oat porridge with her, but with the stove not functioning she has only used a few of those. If really desperate can a person eat “uncooked” oat porridge? She also had some expedition meals that she did not fancy eating, but which we stowed away in a hatch difficult to get to under her mattress, just in case of real emergency.
Another question was how did I feel after watching Ben Fogle and James Cracknell on TV? There were times when Roz phoned me in desperation (just a couple of times), obviously in tears, and hating it in the same way that Ben and James did. She did write about this in one of her dispatches. Watching the two men made me realise just what she must have gone through, and how helpless I felt at the time to say or do anything to help her. I am thankful that she was not thrown off the boat as Ben was; thankful that, being on her own, the cabin was not quite so crowded when the weather was bad. Hard though Ben and James might have found it to row that distance, Roz has had to row every mile herself. Though I say it myself, I am proud of her tenacity, and her ingenuity in repairing those oars. I shall be mighty glad to give her a big hug!!

Thank you to those who have been sending messages. I have in the past tried to answer them individually but there have been a larger number just recently. Lovely to hear from you all, and apologies for not being Roz!

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Rita Savage

21 February 2006

Food boxes just visible in forecabin and red hatch cover in foreground.

21st Feb.

One of the Woodvale support yachts is due to set off soon, and when near enough to Roz will attempt to speak to her by radio. The staff are very confident that all is well, and surprised that the satphone stayed in working order as long as it did!
In September I stayed with Roz in Emsworth to help her prepare for The Voyage. This involved practical jobs on the boat as well as sorting out medical kit, food packages and other administrative tasks.
Roz had planned to pack the food in plastic crates, each one containing enough food for 2 weeks. The crates would be stored in the forward storage compartment, and one by one would be moved to the cabin when needed. All of that was carried out before the boat left to be conveyed by container ship to La Gomera.
Once at La Gomera she was advised to put as much weight as possible below the deck to provide stability in case of capsize. Crates were discarded and I packed the food packages through the round red hatch openings on the deck. Snacks went into a hatch in the sleeping cabin. Looking back on events at sea, it is a good thing that the weight was below deck level. I had tried to pack the packages in such a way that each fortnight

Rita Savage

20 February 2006

Monty at Southborough School

20th Feb.

Once again my grateful thanks to those who have sent encouraging messages today. Still no news of Roz. Probably we will need to wait until she arrives in Antigua.
It seems quite extraordinary that today I have received messages from three schools where the pupils are following Roz’ voyage on the internet. We did know about Southborough Junior School in Hampshire, because they have sent Monty their mascot along with Roz on her boat. They have met Roz, supported her with a fund-raising cake sale, and have sent messages before. Then I received a message from the Island Academy in Antigua, and pupils there are hoping that Roz will arrive during school hours so that they can go to the harbour to welcome her in.
The third one was from Diane, Roz’ cousin, who is a teacher at Eldwick Primary School in Yorkshire. She says that pupils and staff are following Roz’ track and are all very proud of her. I wonder whether any pupils will be inspired to tackle something adventurous in their lives? I have already had messages from two female rowers who seem to be thinking of rowing across the Atlantic – solo, I wonder? Whatever will their mothers think! My advice: take plenty of duck tape and make sure your satphone keeps working.

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Rita Savage

19 February 2006

19 Feb

Still no word from Roz, but the website shows that she did 39 miles yesterday and has reduced her distance still to go to 615 miles by 7.45pm (GMT) today, Sunday.
Last Wednesday when Roz did her dispatch she mentioned that her satphone can only hold 29 text messages. As we presume that the satphone is not working, there really is no point in trying to send her a text message. If or when it gets sorted out she or I will let you know! Grateful thanks to those who have sent me supportive messages through email via Roz

18 February 2006

La Gomera, the day the race started.

18 Feb

All day I have waited for the telephone to ring but Roz has not phoned. I have checked her progress on the Atlantic Rowing Race website times without number. Sedna Solo is moving, though the mileage on Friday and today have not been as good as the previous few days. One good thing is that although the wind is ENE and would be moving the boat south west, Sedna has moved a bit more to the north, towards latitude 17 where she needs to be to reach Antigua. This can only mean that Roz is working hard at clawing back the degrees south where the wind and waves had taken her. A good sign in more ways than one.
I do hope and pray that whatever the problem is with the communications that it can be overcome. Other boats have had similar problems and been out of touch for days. Anyone who has been following the saga of Ben Fogle and James Cracknell will know this was only one of the various problems with which they had battled.
The picture that I hope to add tonight was taken on the day that the race began, and clearly shows the Royal Navy sticker on Roz’ boat. Members of the Navy have been very supportive and helpful, and Roz is proud to have them on her list of sponsors. On the home page you may have seen that the venue for the welcome back party to be held in London will be on navy premises. They are doing her proud!

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Rita Savage

18 February 2006

Day 79

No news yet on this Saturday morning. As Sedna Solo is still moving, and moving northwards against the wind, I assume that the problem is with communications from the satphone. I will post an update as soon as there is some news.
Meanwhile here is another picture taken when she was visited by crew from HMS Southampton last Tuesday.
Thank you for your interest in Roz.

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16 February 2006

In the groove – some disciplined rowing.
16 Feb, 06 – 20:36

I have received that rarest of things – a piece of unsolicited advice that is helpful. The text said,

‘When I was trying to stop smoking, a mate said just stop putting fags in your mouth, you big wuss.

So just stop letting your routine break down – let your non-emotional mind stay in charge, you big wuss.’

For some reason this message hit home where more sophisticated arguments had failed. I’d been failing to make that essential link between present actions and desired future outcome. I want to get to Antigua, and soon. How am I going to get there? Teleport? No, get rowing!

I was quite embarrassed that my outlook could be so revolutionised by such a painfully simple piece of advice, but when I thought about it I found some consolation in the fact that it seems to be a common human failing at all levels.

I want to lose weight.
So stop eating so much, you big wuss!

I want a more exciting life.
So do something exciting, you big wuss!

I want my children to know a planet with rainforests/glaciers/diversity of species.
So start living a greener lifestyle/using energy from renewable sources/recycling your rubbish, you big wuss!

I want global peace.
So stop starting wars, you big W!
(or is that just hypocrisy?)

I now call this my Big Wuss principle.

Thank you to George from Atlantic4. That’s the second good piece of advice you’ve given me, the first being on Day 1 of the race: ‘your watermaker probably has air in it and needs priming’. Dammit, man, I may have to review my prejudice about unsolicited advice from men.

Note to non- British readers: ‘wuss’ is a mild term of abuse, implying weakness of some sort. A bit like ‘wimp’, but less harsh.

Other stuff:

In Eddy’s clutches again…

Great progress this morning due in part, I suspect, to an eddy. I saw clumps of green weed floating in the water, which Tiny tells me are a tell-tale sign. Just hoping Mr Eddy doesn’t now decide to do something naughty, like whisk me south after I’ve worked so hard to get back up close to 17?N… oh, just checked my position, and he already has. Swine.

Texts: thanks for messages from AJ, HSS, Derrick and Elizabeth Pitard, James O, DB, Firinne, Margaret and Bob, Kurt, K&T in Canada, Jeff, John T (I do have something in mind even more challenging… Just still trying to decide if it’s a challenge too far), Steve from the Vivaldi Atlantic 4 (respect!), Helen from Univ, Pascale and Terrence (anything I want in Antigua? What sort of thing did you have in mind? A good dinner and a comfy bed will do for starters!), Martin Chambers, H Briers.

Rita Savage’s PS: More sponsored miles looming: 2202 Phil Goodier; 2222 Yannis Niotis. Brief paragraph about Roz and HMS Southampton in today’s Guardian, Telegraph and Times.
A party to welcome Roz back from her voyage is being planned for March 23rd in London. See her Home Page for details.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, 12kts (estimate)
Weather: sunshine and cloud
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

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15 February 2006

HMS Southampton – Desperately seeking Sedna

15 Feb, 06 – 20:31

Apparently HMS Southampton had some difficulty in locating me yesterday, despite having some of the best radar equipment money can buy.

It’s not really surprising – I was perfectly camouflaged. A small silver boat on a glittering sea (as it was until shortly before they launched the RIB), hidden by huge waves.

So if anybody wants to stage an invasion of Britain, they could do worse than deploy a fleet of small silver rowing boats on a sunny day…

Other stuff:

For the benefit of regular texters, and maybe of passing interest to others, this is how my ocean-going comms setup works, or occasionally doesn’t….

If you send me a text via the Iridium website, it comes straight through to my satphone. Now when I say satphone, I want you to visualise a mobile phone circa 1990. It’s big and chunky, and it’s a nightmare to text from (press 1 three times to get ‘c’, for example). That’s why I acknowledge your texts in my dispatch rather than texting back to you.

When I connect the satphone to my iPaq the phone is acting purely as a modem. My iPaq can’t ‘see’ the satphone as your PC might ‘see’ an iPod or PDA. So I can’t download texts from the satphone to the iPaq. If I want to keep a note of your words of wit and wisdom I have to copy them by hand into my logbook.

Iridium satphone courtesy of Gcomm, iPaq PDA from
Explorers Web.

Another limitation of the satphone is that it can only hold a maximum of 29 text messages, which is why it causes me a problem if someone sends a message spread over 4 or 5 texts. I get my weather info via text and sometimes this can’t get through because the satphone has hit its mailbox limit. I have to clear down the messages a couple of times a day to make sure the vital ones can get through.

So if you have a longer message, it’s better if you use the Contact form on my website. This will also mean I have a permanent record of your email address, which I don’t have if you text me (unless I copy it down manually, which I haven’t been doing). Messages from the Contact page go to my land-based email address and my mother picks them up daily. She’ll either tell me about them, or forward them on to my top secret only-my-mother-knows expedition email address.

The reason I don’t give out the expedition email address to all and sundry is not because I’m getting above myself. It’s because these emails come through to my iPaq via the satphone link, and this link is extremely slow and extremely expensive ($1.50/minute).

This may all sound painfully low-tech, but believe it or not this is just about as good as expedition comms get. The Iridium satphone handset isn’t cheap – about ?1000 – but technology-wise it’s a long way behind land-based mobile phones.

Which reminds me… one final note. I think some of my friends have tried texting me on my normal mobile phone number. Errrr, it doesn’t work in mid-ocean. Not too many mobile phone masts out here. I’ll get those texts if/when I reach Antigua!

Summary:
Text messages
Pro – I generally get them the day you send them, unless my phone has hit its limit of 29 messages
Con – only suitable for short messages, and I have to clear down the messages daily.

Contact form
Pro – better for longer messages, and I will have a permanent record of your email address and words of wisdom
Con – my mother gets to read it first, and may or may not send it on to me, depending on content and length (definitely nothing over about 8K)

And finally, if you do send me a text, do please remember to sign it, or at least enter your email address, or I won’t know who it’s from!

AH: you texted me about the difference between 100% and 99.23% being a very zen concept. I need to know more – very relevant to my next project. Can you send more (via contact form, please) or refer me to further reading?

Thanks for texts and/or Valentine wishes from Molly the teddy at Southbourne Juniors (I’ll get Monty back to you just as soon as I can), RJA, Julian, Celina & Barnaby Hamm, Penny, Nick, Matthew & Ben Collier, Malcolm Brookes, Sandi and the US fanclub (?!), Keith and Isabel Martin, Alasdair from Team Sevenoaks, Sarah Whittingham (you’re a dark horse! Great to hear from you), John T, Jeff (I’m sure it would be the only boat in the world called ‘Baboon Balls’. But I’m sure there are easier ways to become a celebrity!), Tim Ratbag (mmm, eating those yummy miles!), DB, Lizann, Ian Jackson, Rick, Margaret and Bob, Kevin, Natalie (four seasons in one day yesterday – didn’t know at the start of each shift whether to wear waterproof, windproof, t-shirt, or nothing!), HSS, Steve Duffy (keep me posted!).

B – I knew the rose was from you, really. You are daft – I’m not even there!

Rita Savage’s PS: A party to welcome Roz back from her voyage is being planned for March 23rd in London. See her Home Page for details.
Incase you haven’t discovered this: if you click on the pictures above you can see a larger version – much clearer- you can see Roz’ smile!

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, variable (estimate)
Weather: sunshine, squalls
Sea state: rough
Hours rowing: 12

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14 February 2006

SHIP AHOY! HMS Southampton

14 Feb, 06 – 20:44

It has to be the ultimate Valentine’s greeting – HMS Southampton dropped by today en route from Grenada to say hello and wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. They would have happily brought chocolates (and a bacon butty) as well, but unfortunately race rules forbid.

I got a text from my mother this morning: SOUTHAMPTON IMMINENT, so I was on the lookout for them and luckily I spotted them before they spotted me, giving me time to make myself decent. Thank heavens they didn’t see me leaning in through my hatch, desperately trying to find some shorts, full moon on display.

Four guys came speeding over in a RIB to say hi – the first human faces I’d seen since 27th December. And what nice cheery faces they were too. They passed on greetings from my friends Rodney Byram and Jill and Colin Habgood.

The guys pop over to wish me a Happy
Valentine’s Day.

Once they’d returned to their vessel and I’d taken up my oars again, there was a magical moment – HMS Southampton steered alongside me, Her Majesty’s Ship looking impressively huge, Sedna Solo looking incredibly small, and they sounded their klaxon. The men on deck waved to me and I waved back, then the great ship pointed herself east and with a roar of her engines and a gust of diesel fumes she cruised off into the distance.

Who could ask for a more special Valentine than that?

Many thanks to Rodney Byram and Cdr Mike Pearey for making it possible.

P.S. For anyone concerned about the effect on my morale/routine of this visit, fear not. Clicked straight back into schedule.

Texts: thanks to Marina (thanks for offering to send a copy of Ben and James’s documentary – would love to see it. Mum’s address is on my website), James O, Susan Collett (wow! There’s a name from the past! Lovely to hear from you), Guy Clayton in Hamble, Pauline (thanks for the Valentines Day thought – how true!), Luke J in Dublin (next time I’m in Dublin I’ll take you up on that Guinness therapy), Hugh and Paula and all the little Tebays, Sam K (phew, relief! thought you’d deserted me), M&B, Karen Luscombe, Kevin, Tom in NZ, Duncan, Tim (hope today’s dispatch answered your question), Natalie (no worries! you hit nail on the head – pride and frustration two main driving forces at the moment), John T (I was on TV? – cool!), HSS, Mark Reid, George Simpson (sensible advice – am getting the hang of it now), Trish (good to hear from you at last!), Pascale and Terrence, John T (was that red rose from you?!), AJ.

Rita Savage’s PS: Some more thankyous today: to the person who sent me a bouquet of flowers on Valentine’s Day, nice to be thanked for looking after my own daughter. To the one who sent a single red rose addressed to Roz, but with my Leeds address: I have taken a photograph of it for Roz and told her about it. She thinks she knows who sent it! Thanks to some more people who have made donations, and/or sent messages.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, 20kts (estimate)
Weather: sunshine, numerous squalls
Sea state: rough
Hours rowing: 12

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13 February 2006

If in doubt, use a pic of the sky … here’s a
nice sunrise for you.

13 Feb, 06 – 20:41

The perfect adventure

Last night as I rowed along under the full moon, I was thinking about what constitute the ingredients for the perfect adventure. Here’s my theory…

It should involve the achievement of some external goal, ideally at the end of the adventure. This is the problem with mountains – once you’ve reached the summit you still have to get back down. This is at best an anticlimax and at worst the point at which it all goes disastrously wrong.

To heighten the drama, there should be a period of stuck-ness, around two-thirds or three-quarters of the way through, when it seems that obstacles will prevent the achievement of the goal… followed, hopefully, by a triumphant conclusion.

Throughout the adventure there should ideally be little highlights – special moments of beauty to inspire and encourage the adventurer, to be remembered and appreciated when looking back.

And there also have to be tough times. This is the crux of the matter. The adventure should, as well as achieving an external goal, allow the adventurer to achieve a personal objective – to either discover or develop at least one desirable character trait. To do this they will have to step outside their comfort zone, and this by definition causes discomfort and despondency.

My hypothesis is this:

The degree of suffering is directly related to the distance outside the comfort zone. The greater the distance outside the comfort zone, the greater the personal growth will ultimately be.

This is good news. It means that bad times are actually good times, because in the end they make it all more worthwhile. It also means that if circumstances conspire to frustrate the external objective (capsizes, sinkings etc), the adventurer may well have achieved the personal objective so all is not lost. The adventure is as much about the journey as it is about the destination..

I’m quite fond of my theory. It certainly sums up what I hope to get out of my adventures. Feel like I’ve had enough of the hardship/journey bit now though, and quite keen to get to the ‘triumphant conclusion’ bit. This ocean is just a bit too big.

Other stuff:

As you may have gathered from yesterday’s hasty posting, conditions here were finally in my favour. Maybe it was the scream therapy. Maybe it was due to happen anyway. But I’d like to think it was the power of all the good vibes coming my way from all you lovely people. I was quite overwhelmed by all the supportive messages I received after Saturday’s crisis – thank you all very much.

Just as well I made the most if it yesterday – conditions today have been at their most capricious. Frequent squalls have created patchy conditions, with the wind sometimes rising and dropping 10 times in as many minutes. If I was a sailor I’d have been manic – reef in, reef out, reef in, reef out. As it is, my moods have been manic. At this rate it will be a miracle if I reach Antigua a) at all, and b) sane. Mr Atlantic has made it very clear who’s running this show.

Thanks for texts from: Gwenaelle and Hayden, Natalie (ouch! You know how to hit me where it hurts – got me right in the pride!), Sandi (see Technical page for explanation of Sedna. Also happens to be Andes backwards, harking back to my adventures in Peru), Caroline (good questions, I know the answers! Thanks for generous financial incentive – in the nicest possible way, I’ll try to cost you dear!), HSS, AH, Philip Goodier, Kevin, Pascale & Terrence, Pauline, Caroline, Mike M, Kurt, John T, Alastair & Kath, Tim (very appropriate lyrics from the Kinks – thanks – but next time you want to send such a lovely long message would you mind please using the Contact page on my website – my poxy Iridium phone can only hold 29 messages at a time), Bri (thanks for advice. Will try to do so), JB, Frances (great mental image!), Brian (no idea. ask me nearer the time!), Patrick, Lynne, Duncan, Matt at Univ, Bethia Woolf (wise words), Tiny, Jeff, AJ, Westie (plenty to do yet – don’t I know it?! I swear these miles get longer…)

Andy – excellent news that there is some duct tape in my Sailingunlimited Sea Survival Pack. Thank you!

Rita Savage’s PS: Grateful thanks from Roz and myself to people who have recently contributed to the Prince’s Trust Charity through Justgiving and to The Voyage through PayPal. An added encouragement to Roz as she continues on her way with all of its ups and downs.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, variable (estimate)
Weather: sunshine, squalls
Sea state: rough
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

12 February 2006

hang on to your hats – a Buff stops my baseball hat
taking flight. Very Grace Kelly, don’t you think?

12 Feb, 06 – 21:19

Conditions superb. This is what we’ve been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the zone.

Want to make the most of it while it lasts. No time to sit in cabin writing dispatch.

Sorry!

Rita Savage’s PS: If Roz is on a roller-coaster ride, so are we who read and watch and hope and pray! She has now gone racing ahead of me and the sponsored miles again: 2006:Tom Burnett; 2007 James Frederick; 2009 Aaron Frederick. Grateful thanks to these, and to those who are sending encouraging messages to Roz.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, 20 knots (estimate)
Weather: overcast
Sea state: rough
Hours rowing: TBD
Thought for the day: success happens when opportunity meets preparation

(more…)

11 February 2006

Savage scream: vocal therapy.

11 Feb, 06 – 20:23

(with apologies to the makers of Alien)

Today I hit the wall. Big time. By lunchtime I’d already abandoned two shifts early, stormed off in a sulk, procrastinated, petulated and generally behaved more like a spoiled child than an intrepid adventurer.

I’d tried every trick in my emotional toolbox but I just couldn’t find it in me to row another stroke. Routine and discipline had totally broken down.

How many times have I done this? I’ve lost count. Each time I recover and I think I’ve cracked it, but then a few weeks later it happens again. Maybe I just don’t have an ocean-rowing temperament.

I’d maybe put myself under impossible pressure by announcing my intention to reach Antigua by the end of the month. I’ve been putting in an extra rowing shift at the end of the day and reduced my sleep to 4 hours, but without the wholehearted co-operation of the weather this strategy has succeeded only in making me weary and teary, without achieving any extra mileage.

So for now the Big Push is postponed, and I’m reverting to my 12-hour routine. I need to be gentler with myself. In my current state I’m worse than useless – I’m self-destructing.

I’m going to have a restorative nap – a brief journey to the Land of Nod to take a mental break from being an ocean rower – and then I’m going to try out a suggestion from ocean rower Westie. I’m going to stand stark naked on deck, hanging onto the roll bar and facing the bows, and I’m going to yell and scream and curse at the ocean until I’ve vented all my frustration. And then, hopefully, I can get down to some rowing.

Other stuff:

Correction to Team C2 information texted to me yesterday: they actually took 13 days to cover the last 1000 miles, not 23. So maybe my goal isn’t impossible, although it will require a) more help from the weather, and b) more rowing from me than was achieved today.

Thanks to Lucy from Woodvale for the messages. Nice to hear the whole of Antigua is waiting for me! Will try not to keep them waiting TOO much longer.

Messages: thanks to Mike & Izzy Urry (great to hear from you!), Mel and tribe, Bri, AJ, Sean Chapple, John T, HSS (forgiven!), Avelline, the Galls, Andy & Emer (you serious? Thank you! Hope rib now better), Kevin, Margaret and Bob, Kurt, Tanya, Lynne (lovely message – thanks), Anton, Mike M (will be good in your absence. Write a book? Think there are enough books about ocean rows already!), Susan Frederick.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 12-18 knots (estimate)
Weather: overcast and humid in morning, hot sunshine in afternoon
Sea state: moderate to rough
Hours rowing: 6

(more…)

10 February 2006

My Simrad chartplotter showing 999 miles to go.

10 Feb, 06 – 20:33

Less than 1000 miles to Antigua. This is a major milestone for me – getting down into triple figures. The end may not be exactly in sight, but it soon will be.

There were times when Antigua seemed an impossible dream, inconceivably distant and unattainable. How many times in the first two months of my row did I wish that I could somehow be relieved of this challenge I’d taken on – that fate would intervene and allow me to unshoulder this burden without death or dishonour.

But now, having got this far, I will be forever disappointed if I don’t see it through. Most of the crews who have come to grief have suffered their mishap between here and the finish, so I’m certainly not taking it for granted that I will get there, but I now feel strong enough to claim that if I don’t make it to Antigua it won’t be for lack of will or determination on my part.

Last night I dreamed I was arriving in English Harbour… but I mustn’t get too excited, too soon. 1000 miles is still a long way to go, and anything could yet happen.

Other stuff:

Today has been a weary kind of day – humid and oppressive. Even the red ensign looked weary as it fluttered weakly from its mast. On days like this, when the wind and the waves are so silent, I get this awful feeling of being stuck in an eternal moment, as if I’ve been rowing this ocean for ever, and will be for evermore.

I was downcast for a while this morning, after getting a text saying Team C2 had taken 23 days to cover the last 1000 miles. If two big blokes rowing in shifts around the clock took that long, then surely my hopes of reaching Antigua by the end of the month were an impossible dream. But never say die. I can but try, and apart from anything else it cheers me up to think that dry land could be less than 3 weeks away. Still being at sea for longer than that I find unimaginable.

Yesterday I rang the Aurora, and asked them ever so nicely if they would mind please not coming to visit. It’s tough enough to keep going as it is, and I fear for the effect on my morale if my routine is disrupted and I see people who have easy access to hot food and company. Best I keep myself to myself for a while longer.

Texts: thanks for messages from Caroline, Nige M, Margaret and Bob, Kurt (Monty useless as a rower, unfortunately – arms and legs way too short!), Alasdair from Team Sevenoaks, HSS, Lizann, John T, DB, Natalie (do please give me your support in this push for home – need all the help I can get! Pics of myself when there’s a swell? There’s ALWAYS a swell!), Kevin from Tamarind (looking forward to that free lunch), Mar (oh, it would be so nice if the ‘right’ wind is just around the corner!), Oliver aged 9 (Monty says hello), COTB (?1000? Tell me more!), Pascale & Terrence (hope to see you in Antigua asap!), Tim Ratbag.

Rita Savage’s PS: Sponsored miles: 1972 Mar Alvarez; 1999 John Sugden and Henry Harris-Burland coming up soon.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 12 knots (estimate)
Weather: overcast, humid, occasional hot sunshine
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 15

(more…)

09 February 2006

3 out of 4 pairs of rowing gloves are now in tatters.
Caroline suggested cutting off the fingers to relieve
pressure on nails – not strictly necessary.

9 Feb, 06 – 20:43

It’s time to up the ante. I want to be in English Harbour by the end of February. It’s a lot to ask, and will require a significant increase in my daily mileage. I’ve learned a lot about myself already on this row. Now it’s time to find out something new – am I tough enough to do what it takes to make landfall by the end of the month?

It will mean extending my daily rowing schedule and reducing my sleep. It will also require 100% co-operation from the ocean and the weather – and we know they often have their own ideas. I’m willing to put in the hours if they’re willing to send me a good easterly wind, a strong easterly swell, and a consistent easterly current every day for the next 20 days, and deliver me precisely to English Harbour.

Not so much to ask, surely?!

I had words with the ocean yesterday. Not the sort of words I usually hurl in its direction, most of which are unrepeatable here, but beseeching words, pleading for some sweet water. And it seems to have worked. Conditions for most of today were splendid. Wind and swell were pushing me towards Antigua, with enough strength to make for good progress, but not so strong as to endanger my fragile, patched-up oars… But now they’re calming down to that awkward inbetweeny state – too rough for comfortable rowing, not strong enough to surf. Only time will tell if Mr Atlantic is going to help me out.

Other stuff:

Maybe as a symbol of the new entente cordiale between me and the ocean, I saw dolphins for the first time today. About 20 of them passed by, in groups of between 3 and 6, coming within about 10 feet of my boat. They didn’t pay me much attention, but it was a real boon to see them anyway.

Another reason I want to get a move on is that if I don’t make landfall by the end of the month I’m going to start running out of things, like rowing gloves. Other things on the critical list are wet wipes, Wholebake 9 Bars, suntan lotion and chocolate.

Texts: thanks for messages from Rodders (relieved and pleased to hear from you. Sorry – didn’t get your earlier messages! X), the Evanses in Sydney (hi there Mr & Mrs Guts!), John T, George S, HSS, Elise Laverick (hi to TRC!), Bill Carey Evans, Rhea Kingswell, Martin Chambers, Jeff, Isabel Martin (Chris’s mum), DB.

Rita Savage’s PS: More sponsored miles for which grateful thanks and acknowledgement: 1901-6 Andy and Emer Osborne; 1908-28 also Andy and Emer; 1907 Gwenaelle and Hayden Transon; and coming up before long: 1937 David Bridge; 1940 Nicholas Marden-Taylor.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 8-20 knots (estimate)
Weather: mostly overcast, occasional sunshine
Sea state: moderate to rough
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

08 February 2006

Monty enjoying some fresh sea air – between the Argos
beacon and the satphone antenna.

8 Feb, 06 – 20:38

There has been a request to hear more from Monty, the teddy bear from Southbourne Junior School and ship’s First Mate. So here he is… over to you, Monty.

Hmmmph!

I didn’t realise this was the slow boat to Antigua. We’ve been out here for 70 days now, and still a long way to go. A bear can get bored of life at sea.

I should have got a ride with those nice boys Ben and James – than I’d be home and dry and doing the chat show circuit now. And I’d be in their documentary. I’d be famous! Instead I’m still stuck out here in the great blue yonder, having to listen to Roz’s awful singing as she rows.

Would somebody please tell Molly, the other Southbourne teddy, that I haven’t been lost at sea, that I will be back eventually, and she mustn’t get tired of waiting and go off with any of the other toys.

And that’s all from me for now.

Hmmmph!

Other stuff:

Today has been humid and squally – hard to know from one moment to the next what the weather was going to do. The oar repairs are bearing up well, although the silver duck tape is hugely inferior to the black version – it is soft and wears through very easily, so I have to be very careful not to scuff it when putting the oars in or out of their gates, because if this tape wears out There Is No More.

I second Monty’s opinion that we’ve been at sea plenty long enough. Other rowers speak of a nirvana where wind, swell and current all line up and it’s possible to cover 50 miles in a day, with 20 miles of drift overnight. So far these conditions have eluded me. Any time now would be nice…

Texts: thank you for all the messages. As always, they help keep me entertained and cheerful. And it was a Bumper batch today! Thanks to AJ (glad somebody understands importance of own-steam), Penny Stagg, Colin Habgood, Pauline (yes re land-legs, already worried my first act on dry land will be to fall over!), John T (yes, good one – will memorise), DB (favourite album is Songs of Faith and Devotion by Depeche Mode. Jerk chicken in Antigua – no idea!), Charlie Martin (nice to e-meet you, and congrats to David), Kurt (sky-diving? I fancy that…), Richard Powles (I hope to be off adventuring in 2007, but do ask me nearer the time! Regards to all at the Univ dinner on 23/2), Lizann, James Oglethorpe, Margaret and Bob (you do wonders for a girl’s ego! Do you charge for your ego-boosting services?!), JB (more Monty as requested! Sponsorship?), Victoria H, HSS, Avelline (welcome! 3 kids and you still find time to row – wow!), the Galls (glad you understand the oar issue!).

Rita Savage’s PS: Sponsored Miles coming up: 1870 Nicholas Mardon-Taylor; 1888 Mat Ellis; 1899 Frances Barber – those after 1900 tomorrow perhaps? Thanks for your support.
Monty: from what I’ve read about Ben and James, you might have suffered some discomforts there too when their boat pitchpoled!

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 8-20 knots (estimate)
Weather: mostly overcast, occasional sunshine
Sea state: moderate to rough
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

Sunset about 5pm Antigua time.

7 Feb, 06 – 20:40

Yesterday’s oar trouble was inconvenient, not least because it disrupted my routine, and I’ve come to treasure my routine like a new best friend.

It took me a long time to settle into the rhythm of life at sea, partly because of the storms-and-sea-anchor stage, when every day brought different circumstances, and partly because being solo it’s entirely up to me to set my own schedule, and free choice can be a tricky thing.

I had this notion that there was a ‘right’ routine waiting to be discovered, so I kept experimenting with 3 hour shifts and 4 hour shifts, catnaps and night shifts, row all day and a full night’s sleep, in the hope that one particular pattern would feel easier, more natural, than the others. Eventually I realised that when it comes to routine it doesn’t matter what it is – you simply have to define it and stick to it. And that no matter what routine you use, there is no easy way to row an ocean.

So what is my routine?

0430 (Antigua time) Alarm goes off, have breakfast
0445 (0845 GMT) Phone Mum to talk admin, messages, race news, etc
0500-0800 Rowing shift #1
Break and nap
0900-1200 Rowing shift #2
Break and nap
1300-1600 Rowing shift #3
Break and post dispatch
1700-2000 Rowing shift #4
2030 Bedtime – bliss!

I also take a 10 minute mini-break in every hour. During my breaks I write up the ship’s log, have a snack, tend to my sprouting seeds, work on my dispatch, pick up text messages, have a sponge bath, etc.

It works for me. I’ve discovered the hard way that when there’s a huge task to be done, like rowing 3000 miles, the least painful way to do it is set up a routine and stick to it… weather and oars permitting.

Other stuff:

The going/rowing continues to be heavy in an adverse swell and unhelpful NE wind. These conditions are due to last until Friday at least… Oh sweet water, where art thou?

Other stuff:

Congratulations to Chris Martin on his arrival in Antigua. He went through so much to get there – a thoroughly deserved success, and I hope he’s now enjoying a few celebratory drinkies ashore.

A couple of texters have strongly encouraged me to get replacement oars. I appreciate your concern, but realistically, the oars wouldn’t get to me for about 2 weeks (unless the support yacht already has some on board, and I don’t think it does), and if I’ve managed for that long with these ones, I may as well carry on…

Thanks for texts and messages from Pauline Appleby (thanks for drinks money awaiting me in Antigua!), Caroline Haines, John T (Mum will video Cracknell/Fogle programme for me), Brian, Jo Allen (hi to Furnivall RC!), James Oglethorpe (lovely message, and joke made me smile!), DB (I dreamed about flapjacks last night – sad but true! And your mother’s ARE the best), HSS (my boat is completely different construction from Chris’s, so unfortunately bed slat splints not an option), Di Hewlett, Jane Bond, Tom Kucharski in Poland.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: NE, about 15 knots (estimate)
Weather: cloudy morning, sunshine and clouds later
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12
Lyric of the day: Any way the wind blows
/ Doesn’t really matter to me (Bohemian Rhapsody)

(more…)

06 February 2006

6 Feb, 06 – 21:34
1655.493N,4453.490W,0M

I knew today was going to be tough, and it has lived up to expectations.

With the conflicting influences of the eddy, the wind and the swell, waves have been coming at me from all directions and the going has been heavy – less like rowing, more like weightlifting. I usually rate about 20 strokes per minute, but today it has been 16, and my usual speed of around 2 knots has been down to a disheartening 1 knot.

And, worse still, I broke an oar. Again. Not really surprising, in these rough conditions. Sikaflexed-Spoon, which had been the only oar with loom intact, has loom intact no more. A sideswiping wave broke it just below the collar. I’ve got the routine down pat now – out with the hacksaw, out with the duck tape. Chop another chunk off the sacrificial oar and tape it up.

I thought that would do the trick, but it wasn’t enough. A few hours later, another big wave, and the oar cracked again. Visions of waiting a week for a support yacht to bring replacements flashed across my mind’s eye. And it would mean losing my unsupported status. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

But what to use as a splint? Both sections of the boathook were already in service, and I needed something strong and at least a foot long.

There was an option I’d considered previously – the axles from my spare rowing seat – but I hadn’t been able to figure out how to dismantle it. I tried again, but even after calling boatbuilder Richard Uttley for advice I still l couldn’t manage it. So out came the hacksaw again, and after some energetic sawing I had my splints.

But this repair has used up the last of my duck tape – I started out with 3 rolls of it. And still many miles to go.

What will come to an end first – my Atlantic row, my mending materials, or my baby wipes?

Texts: thanks for messages from George from Atlantic4 (great to hear from you! Well done on a great row), Caroline Haines (get rid of the TV and don’t read the papers – it helps!), Tim Ratbag, John T (sorry, I don’t get the clue), Margaret and Bob, James Oglethorpe, Clarkie, Jeff, DB.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 15 knots (estimate)Weather: sunshine and clouds
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

05 February 2006

5 Feb, 06 – 20:54

Some texters have said they are envious of me. Why?! It’s not exactly a barrel of laughs out here.

But I know what they mean – there was a time when I was envious of people like me too. I was living in London, doing a job that didn’t seem in tune with my values or my abilities, but I thought I needed a certain level of income and this job was the only way I could see of achieving it. I felt trapped. I would sometimes escape by reading books about mountaineers, polar trekkers and other adventurers. And yes, I would envy them.

It was this envy that gave me a clue my life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. One day I did an interesting exercise – I wrote two versions of my obituary – the one I was heading for if I carried on as I was, and the one I really wanted. The contrast was startling.

It still took another 3 or 4 years of gradual changes before the two obituaries started to converge, but I’m getting there.

The first thing is to figure out what it is that you’re envying. If you envy me, is it because you actually want to row an ocean? Or is it the freedom? The adventure? The personal challenge? The opportunity to get fit and healthy? Or is it just that the grass is greener, and you simply want an escape from your current lifestyle?

And if you want to do something about it, what’s stopping you? If you really, really, really wanted to do something about it, would you let anything stop you?

As George Eliot said, ‘It’s never too late to be what you might have been’.

Here’s a little ditty I made up while I was rowing today…

As I row across the sea
I’m very happy to be me
Life is simple, life is free
Oh what better way to be!

There are many ways to live your life
Some are easy, some may bring strife
But please don’t say, when you are through
‘There’s still so much I wanted to do’

Other stuff:

Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea

The latest on the eddy/swell dilemma – it was a tough call, but I decided to try and get further north (or at least, not go any further south) before the northerly swell kicks in tomorrow. This means I’m dicing with the worst of the eddy. It also means heavy, heavy going. I’ve worn out a pair of rowing gloves in record time. The next 2 or 3 days will show whether or not I made the right decision.

Note for Sean Chapple re my ExplorersWeb Contact 3 setup:

I’ve found it great. It’s very basic software, but it works – which is all I want!

Tips:

1. Do as Tom suggests and prepare your dispatch using Pocket Word. If you have to reset your iPaq (which I have to do quite regularly) you will lose your dispatch if you’ve done it straight into Contact 3.

2. Look after the kit carefully, especially the HET cable. Mine got damp and didn’t like it. But it did recover after a few days.

3. I initially had a problem with the iPaq going into sleep mode in mid-upload. Set the auto-sleep to max (5 mins). If you’re uploading photos it may take longer than 5 mins, so touch the screen from time to time to stop it going to sleep.

4. If at first the Iridium link doesn’t work, keep trying. I quite often get errors, but it usually works eventually, and sometimes even at the first attempt! Remember, technology knows when you’re in a hurry… allow enough time to do your dispatch, and all will be well…

Texts: thanks for the messages from HSS, John T (Chicago? Or Boston? Sorry – not ready to give you a clue as to my project. Still need to check feasibility, and research opportunities rather limited at the moment!), Caroline Haines, Margaret and Bob, Sandi (nice idea about listing my favourite nursery rhymes, but it’s far too long since I was a child and I can’t remember any!), Brian (thanks for letting me know re Shaolin monks – they were awesome!)

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 15 knots (estimate)
Weather: sunshine and clouds
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

04 February 2006

The wind may be causing me problems, but it does
have its uses – fast-drying laundry.

4 Feb, 06 – 21:04

Tiny tipped me off that there was an eddy waiting to ambush me – a 100-mile-diameter clockwise current centred on 16.8?N 44.8?W. It was a dilemma – head south to get the favourable current south of its centre, but then risk problems getting north again to Antigua, or carry on at the same latitude slogging away against the current. The word from Norwich was to head south. So this morning I diverted to the SW, in the hope that the eddy would slingshot me out the other side in the general direction of Antigua.

But then… I got an email from my new weatherman. (My weather info was previously coming from Adrian Flanagan, who is sailing solo around the world via the Poles, but he’s currently otherwise engaged negotiating Cape Horn or some other lame excuse…). Ricardo advised me that there’s a massive low in the far
North Atlantic that will bring a NW swell 7-15ft as far south as where I am, from Monday until at least Tuesday morning. This will stop me in my westerly tracks, and the best strategy would be to head NW now to gain as much latitude as possible before the swell hits.

So in summary, Monday looks like this: swell pushing me SE, wind pushing me SW, eddy pushing me NW, and all I want to do is go W.

Life is complicated. And apparently another eddy lies ahead – a more complex one. As tricky as negotiating the Hemel Hempstead roundabouts… But Ricardo assures me that any day now everything will line up and I’ll be on the fast track to Antigua. Oh, yes, please!

Rita Savage

03 February 2006

Patchy sunburn horror: brown arm, white hand.

3 Feb, 06 – 20:38

Weight
The good news – I’ve lost about a stone without dieting
The bad news – I put on a stone and a half before the race in eager anticipation of dramatic weight loss

Suntan
The good news – best all-over suntan of my life
The bad news – …. apart from forehead (hat), hands (rowing gloves), feet (trainers), and bum/backs of legs (always sitting down)

Complexion
The good news – bracing, pollution- free sea air bringing glow to the cheeks
The bad news – salt water bringing spots to the bum-cheeks

Fingernails
The good news – sunshine and water make them grow faster
The bad news – they then fall off your fingers

Hair
The good news – an opportunity to recover from over-washing (twice in 2 months so far)
The bad news – I daren’t even look. Why do you think I’m always wearing a hat?!

So, girls, if it’s good looks you’re after, forget about rowing an ocean. Take your ?15,000 race entry fee and spend it at Champney’s instead.

Other stuff:

Tiny – I think I may be caught in the grip of that eddy. Two days ago the boat suddenly seemed to double in weight, so much so that I hopped overboard to check I didn’t have anything caught on the rudder… like a submarine. How much longer can I expect this to last?

Texts: thanks to Jeff (your franglais is terrible!), whanna, Nathan (do you want me to try and talk you out of it?!), Natalie, John T (where ARE you going in April?), Sinead (thanks for getting the lottery ticket – can I leave it to you to check the results for me?), Alasdair, HSS, DB (don’t get and don’t want news, thanks, and yes – will be giving talks/lectures in UK – book early to avoid disappointment!), Tim (enjoy your drink with Tiny), Lizann, Guy.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 10 knots (estimate)
Weather: sunshine and clouds
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

02 February 2006

Me in my night hat.

2 Feb, 06 – 20:31

It is the night shift – the last 3 hours of my rowing day – and I am busy at the oars. I am wearing just a t-shirt and a hat, and the tropical night air is velvety against my skin. The sun set about two hours ago, and the afterglow has finally faded from the western sky, where a thin crescent moon now hangs like a silver hammock. I can see its reflection dancing in the hatch door in front of my rowing position, and my moon shadow rows diligently away before me. The perspex dome of my compass nightlight glows red between my feet.

It is a calm night, and the ocean is almost silent, a faint sighing its only sound. My oars, broken and repaired, each have their own distinctive splash. The left one, with spoon intact, makes a clean entry into the water, while the right one, spoon lashed to a boathook with cable ties, makes a messier splash, with the occasional gurgle as a bubble escapes from the hollow tube of the broken shaft.

It is at night time that I am most aware of the hugeness of the ocean, and the smallness of me. But it’s not a scary or intimidating feeling – it’s a feeling of wonder and amazement that I am here, over a thousand miles from the nearest land, alone and rowing away in a little silver boat. It is at the same time an absurd and a magnificent thing to be doing.

My watch alarm goes off to signal the end of my shift and I stow my oars for the night, with a satisfying feeling of a job well done – another day and a few more miles closer to Antigua. I admire the stars while I brush my teeth, and retire to my cabin to write up my logbook and tot up my miles for the day. Then it’s time for bed, and dreams of dry land, family, friends and food.

Texts: thanks for messages from Mariya (glad you reminded me about Perfect Moment Syndrome – glad to hear you still get PMS too!), Pauline, Tiny, Duncan (would love to be at the Henley Oxford/Cambridge races, but that’s the weekend I’m speaking at the Univ reunion in NY. Too bad!), Sean Chapple (no, it was last year that Mum was in Antarctica. I can recommend her as a base camp manager – I’ll hire her out for ?25k!), Caroline Haines, John T (no, getting colder on guesses re US trip – you’ll never get it!), Liz Devoto (miss work in London? Like a hole in the head!), Margaret and Bob (glad computer has recovered. A book? Who knows?!), HSS – sorry I got your initials wrong yesterday. HHS was my Dad!

Rita Savage’s PS: Alastair Brown – she should reach your sponsored mile 1681 tomorrow! Thanks.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, about 15 knots (estimate)Weather: sunshine and clouds
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

(more…)

01 February 2006

Roz’ mother in Antarctic – just a dya visitor, not trekking to the Pole!

1 Feb, 06 – 20:35

Q from James Oglethorpe: ‘You are selected by NASA to go to Mars. Which explorers (alive or dead), would you pick as your fellow crew members? 2 women and 3 men.’

A: Well, somebody live would definitely make a more useful member of the crew!

I’m going to expand this to include adventurers and travellers, partly because my knowledge of explorers is woefully inadequate, and partly because it’s debatable whether it’s still possible to be an explorer in the geographical sense in this day and age, when most of the earth’s dry land has already been charted.

So, with all that preamble out of the way…

1,. Captain Joshua Slocum, who built his own boat and sailed it solo around the world in (I think) the late 1800′s. Resourceful kind of chap, and seemed to have a good sense of humour.

2. Michael Palin (who is also coming to my hypothetical dinner party). Good team member and would probably be very good at handling any delicate negotiations if we ran into some unfriendly Martians.

3. Tom Avery, polar trekker – because he’s cute!

4. Rosie Stancer, who has trekked solo to both Poles. I’ve only met Rosie once, for dinner at her house, but we got on famously. She’s feisty, determined, and fun, definitely an asset to the crew.

5. Klondike Woman – I read a book recently about the female Gold Rush pioneers. I may not admire their motives, but I couldn’t help being impressed by the way these doughty Victorian women hitched up their petticoats and trekked up the notorious Chilkoot Pass through appalling weather and hostile terrain, while many of their male counterparts fell by the wayside. If they could cope with that, I reckon they could cope with anything Mars could throw at them.

Other stuff:

Have been concerned to hear about the problems other crews are having in hitting Antigua – especially sorry to hear about Row4Life losing their boat. As a solo rower in a boat that has proved vulnerable to being blown around, I could be in trouble unless the winds decide to deliver me right to Antigua’s doorstep. I am in the hands of the weather gods.

The breeze had been shaping up quite nicely for about 24 hours… until this afternoon, when following a brief squall an all-too-familiar calm settled once again over my patch of the Atlantic. Lucky I’m so zen and calm about life now, or I’d be crying with frustration…

Diana Hoff (thanks for the vote of confidence – I, too, am looking forward to being your fellow solo rower!), Mariya (hola, chica! Hope the surfing in Hawaii is better than here in mid-Atlantic), Carol in Chicago (fingernails not looking good), Roger Gould, Bridget Rumley, Caroline Haines (the nutritionist and the creator of toasted Mars Bar sandwiches are, believe it or not, one and the same person!), Clarkie, Aase-Kathe and Flemming from Denmark, Tim Ratbag, Tom Moore (see you in NY), Jeff (biggest ensuite bathroom – made me smile!), John T, DB, Westie (thanks for the top tip – tempting!), HSS, AJ.

Rita Savage

31 January 2006

Old version seat cover – doubles up as afro wig for 70′s theme parties.

31 Jan, 06 – 20:39

No man (or woman) is an island…

But being on a little rowboat in the middle of the Atlantic must be about the next best thing. I’ve been enjoying a fine sense of self-sufficiency today.

With my solar-powered watermaker droning away, my chickpeas growing in my seed sprouter, and plenty enough food to see me to Antigua, I looked around at my DIY improvements and felt, possibly for the first time, at home in the ocean environment.

I got this same feeling when I was trekking in Bolivia, knowing I had my tent, sleeping bag, and enough food for a week stowed away in my rucksack. I remember gazing into my campfire one starlit night and revelling in the feeling of having all I needed, not needing to rely on anyone else for anything.

This was one of the reasons I wanted to do a solo ocean row – the opportunity for physical self-sufficiency, and emotional self-reliance, that it offered. It’s a very powerful, and very empowering, feeling.

Other stuff:

Bliss to the buttocks

The extra padding I’d put on my seat 2 days ago wasn’t really working for me. Yesterday was tolerable, but by the end of the first shift this morning my increasingly bony backside had had enough. I was also worried about losing my third and last alpaca skin seat cover, its two predecessors having been washed overboard.

So I’ve now fashioned a new improved seating arrangement out of my spare pillow, a piece of netting and some string. Much more comfy, and hopefully the extra airflow around the nethers should help me avoid Cracknell-bottom.

Has now acquired a hairnet

Special messages:

Cheerfully miserable – Clarkie, don’t worry. Since I became Officially Miserable, contrary woman that I am, I’ve been a lot more cheerful. Since I released myself from the burden of trying to have a good time, I’ve relaxed a lot and am almost in danger of actually enjoying it.

Hayley Bennett – hey Hayley! Was thinking of you just yesterday and your wise words – ‘you must have a very good relationship with the voices in your head’. I didn’t at the start of this row, but I do now!

HHS: you star – a free massage in Antigua. I’ll take that up, for sure!

My texts today had a definite international air…

Hello to CHP Consultants in Sydney!
Hello to Mat and Grace in California!
Hello to Hondo in Ohio!
Hello to Paul in South Africa!

Thanks also for texts from Caroline Haines, Karen Luscombe, Alex Burton, Henry and Elizabeth Burrows, Di Morris, Sean Chapple (good luck in Norway), Sinead Martin (has to be worth a go – easier than a sponsorship drive! One lucky dip please), Mike Dunsmore, Natalie (torturing me with memories of 16-course dinners and fantasies of toasted ice cream sandwiches!), John T (thanks for navigational tip-off).

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: NE, now about 15 knots (estimate) and improving
Weather: sunshine and little fluffy clouds
Sea state: moderate
Hours rowing: 12

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30 January 2006

Oxford Lightweights

30 Jan, 06 – 20:39

Q from Caroline Haines: Before this, what would you regard as your greatest achievement?

A: Strangely, for someone who doesn’t think of herself as sporty (just ask anyone who knew me in my schooldays!) the contenders for Greatest Achievement are all sports-related. Maybe that’s precisely why – I have to exert mind over matter to make myself do these things.

The winner would have to be being selected for the stroke seat of the Oxford Lightweights for the race against Cambridge in 1989.

The previous year I’d rowed in the reserve boat for the heavyweights, Osiris, so I’d had some good coaching. But to be selected I would have to lose about 15 pounds and maintain if not improve my fitness, so over the summer vacation I dieted and trained diligently.

The autumn trials went well for me, and I managed to keep the weight off despite a few lapses of self-control (a few of us made the calorific discovery that toasted Mars Bar sandwiches are heaven on a plate) and I was over the moon to be selected for the stroke seat, which some would say is the most important seat in the boat.

I remember looking in the bathroom mirror and thinking, ‘Hey, you’re Ok. You’re stroke of the Oxford Lightweights. Wow.’ Big-headed? Maybe. But I felt I’d thoroughly earned my place. It was a good feeling – to set a goal, work hard for it, and achieve it.

The other contenders for Greatest Achievement would be the New York Marathon 1998 and London Marathon 2001. What attracted me to the event was people saying, ‘You will learn things about yourself during a marathon’. I never really did, except that marathons are deeply unpleasant and make your toenails drop off.

3000 miles across the Atlantic, on the other hand, while also being deeply unpleasant, really does let you get to know yourself. Does it ever!

Calling all ocean rowers: speaking of nails dropping off, my fingernails seem to be slowly parting company with my fingers. Is this normal? Help!

Other stuff:

I was rowing along this hot afternoon when there was a strange sensation on my skin – familiar but almost forgotten. It took me a moment or two to remember what it was… Could it be… No, surely not… A breeze! Picking up nicely now. Long may it last.

Texts: thanks to Barbara McNulty from Andark, Paul Nicholson, Margaret and Bob (would be v nice if Chris’s dad is right, but the weather seems to be so unpredictable this year!), Snowy (well, I did use a broken oar to make splints, but it was my idea first!), HHS (v happy to hear about massage place in Antigua!), Fran (really good to hear from you), Bill Rowlands in Libya, DB.

Rita Savage PS: Roz’ father believed that a man’s legs were made just long enough to reach from the car seat to the accelerator. He could hardly believe that he had fathered a marathon runner, but was very proud of her achievement.

For GPS position, race position and miles from La Gomera, see http://www.atlanticrowingrace.co.uk

Wind: E, 3-15 knots (estimate)
Weather: sunshine
Sea state: calm ealy, moderate later
Hours rowing: 12

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