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Leg 2, Day 60
By Leg 2, Day 60
It is day 60 since we left Hawaii. Many of you might know that we had predicted that this leg of the journey would take us about 60 days and by that calculation we should be arriving into Samoa today. Sadly we are still around 900 miles away from Apia where we will make our next landfall and still trying to fight our way out of the doldrums. Naturally we have all been a little bit frustrated with our slow progress and cannot wait to get out of the westerly current and making haste towards our next stop.
Expecting that it would take us 60 days we packed our supplies accordingly along with an extra contingency of 6 days (10%) in case it took an extra few days. This means that we are beginning to run out of certain things. Although we have plenty of food on board to keep us well fed until the most negative prediction of our arrival because we packed in enough for two main meals per day and have only been eating one, we will be running out of breakfasts, deserts and snack packs in the next week. This means the sad day is imminent where we will be eating beef curry for breakfast. Fortunately all is not lost because yesterday in the midday heat I went into our front below deck hatch where our last remaining snack packs and some other treats were stashed. In there I discovered an extra chocolate supply we had forgotten about including a few packets of timtams, almond and peanut butters and some extra cereal bars and sweets. Bonus as it means we aren’t going to be totally deprived of treats from here to Samoa. From the snack packs I retrieved from the hatch I picked each of us as close to our perfect treats as I could find. Mine contained a chocolate chip cliff bar, a natures valley oats and honey bar, dried fruit containing mango, pineapple, apricots and cranberries, a large pack of Oreos, some chicken noodles, tuna, 2 starburst sweets and some fruit gummy snacks. It is funny how much food can change our mood on the boat. A good snack pack can keep you happy through the night when you have you favourite treat to keep you awake. Overcast or rainy days are ‘shepherds pie days’ where we eat this most stodgy and comforting of our freeze dried rations. On particularly hot and sunny days oriental chicken, probably the lightest meal is often the choice. In the aft cabin we have the condiment hatch (formerly the cinnamon hatch before we jettisoned the cinnamon in Hawaii) which contains ketchup, sweet chilli sauce and soy sauce to add flavour to our meals. I have been known to make a meal choice just because I fancied some sweet chilli sauce! This leg we didn’t put any chocolate into our snack packs as the heat means it would just melt. Having a separate chocolate stash means that it can be saved for a day when we feel the need for a little treat. Hot chocolate, chai lattes and peppermint tea are usually the choice at the end of a long cold night of torrential rain and wind.
More distressingly our toilet paper supplies are dwindling and we are down to our final roll. Fortunately we have a few extra packets of wet wipes but we are having to be sparing. Luckily we packed plenty of suncream as without that we would be frying in the burning equatorial sunshine and we have plenty of soap, aftersun and toothpaste left (not sure what that says about our cleanliness!) so at least this means we’ll be able to wash our hair before our arrival in Samoa.
UPDATE: We have all been a little despondent this week due to our slow progress and the fact that we aren’t close to Samoa yet so today Lizanne made us some pancakes with Nutella to cheer us up – yummy! Last night at sunset we saw a large pod of whales all around the boat. They looked like very large dolphins with stubby noses and we think they are sperm whales. Shortly after this we witnessed a fish frenzy. A large shoal of fish obviously being chased by something all jumping out of the water, splashing and looking like an explosion was happening under the water. Today we have had a shark swimming around the boat again as well as a large dark animal which we have yet to identify as it keeps disappearing before we can get a good look. Lizanne got hit by another flying fish last night while sat in the hatch of the aft cabin as we got ready for sleep and I got hit by one on the oars in the dark. They seem to be a new type now, darker with double wings which look like a butterflies.
Leg 2, Day 59 – Can lightening strike twice?
By Day 59: can lightening strike twice?
Right when a few of us are starting to miss home or feeling the dregs of the monotony of rowing 12hrs a day, today the Pacific brought a taste of home to us. It appears that regardless of being at the equator where you’d imagine it to be searing heat, we have entered into rowing what seems to be the English Channel in early Winter. It’s actually been cold through the night, torrential, non-forgiving rain and bitter winds making us want to wrap up warm in the cabin and have a shepherds pie to warm our little cockles up. Like a taste of back home. Who would have thought, that at the equator we were drenched wet and freezing cold, dreaming of a hot cup of tea rather than an icey cocktail.
Last night started with a star filled sky and then suddenly the stars disappeared and we entered into a sky of pitch blackness with heavy clouds you could feel all around us. There’s something about the dark that can allow your mind to play tricks on you, when you’re on land, then the darkness can bring a fear of someone being there when you can’t see them. Out here, thankfully void of any unknown visitors in the dark (unless it’s Monty the Booby landing on Doris) the fear instead is of the looming clouds overhead, you don’t know whether they are about to rain on you, or worse still, are they lightening storm clouds. Last night they were exactly that, lightening storm clouds.
I love watching lightening from a distance, where you can see the night sky light up for a split second. The natures phenomenon of how lightening is created through electrical charge, it’s fascinating. However, when you row into these clouds at night time and you feel the clouds have engulfed you, then I feel it’s less fun when that electrical surge happens directly above you. Don’t quote me on the odds, but I think it’s something like a million to one chance of ever being hit by lightening and if you ask Tony if we are at risk, he’d say there’s a very slim chance albeit next to no risk. However, in my head, that computes to, ‘but there is a small slither of a chance it could happen, Doris could be struck by lightening’ and let’s face it, people do get struck by lightening and with our track record recently in the Doldrums, I would put us at higher odds. Let’s look at the facts, we’re a small boat that yes is low to the sea level and doesn’t have a huge mast up to the sky, but we do have carbon fibre in the hull which correct me if I’m wrong, but I think would be a conductor. We too have aerials that stand up approx. 1.5m above the cabins. We don’t have a grounding line. So as far as I’m concerned, when sitting within the heart of an electrical storm, I’d prefer we take precautions and needless to say my heart rate was most probably sitting a little higher last night until the storm had passed. So maintaining a steady rowing pace, the aerials were folded down and then when the clouds above us and all around lit like a lightbulb had been switched on and the rumble of thunder soon followed, it was time to watch from the cabin. We sat it out for just 10-15mins max until it had passed overhead and then returned to the oars. Shortly after, Ems and Lizanne had to do the same in the last 15mins of their shift, as another storm cloud passed over head. On returning to the oars, as it has been for the past few days and let’s face it, pretty much 90% of the Doldrums so far, we have once again been battling against currents and the wind, making it heavy work to go little distance for a lot of effort. This without a doubt has been the most frustrating and I think we all have had our moments cursing the sea and wishing it to ease up just a little bit. Thankfully by noon today, the grey clouds had lifted, the sun began to shine again, the winds and current started to settle down and we have been able to resume rowing South. So with just 3degrees (180nm) to go until we are hopefully out of the doldrums once and for all, I think this will be a point of celebration even bigger than crossing the equator!
Leg 2, Day 58 – Let’s get more physical
By Day 58 – Let’s get more physical
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to us anymore that nothing is quite as we’d imagined it would be on the Pacific. The equator was cold and wet (?!!), the wildlife has been mainly birds vs. sea life and recently every time we plan to have a team social to celebrate crossing the equator the heavens open up which causes us to postpone.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt though it’s that communication makes all the difference, and in true female form as you can imagine there’s a LOT of chatting that happens on Doris. It amazes me that there is always still something to talk about! A hot topic of conversation that gets raised daily is what we are experiencing physically. Very often it’s prompted by a groan heard as someone exits the cabin and stands up straight; a rare occurrence. Or “You alright?” as another does a little stretch before going into the cabin after their 2 hour row shift. “It’s just such hard work!” No, they’re not referring to their row shift, but about making their way from one end of the boat to the other!… A mere 4 steps. The short distance we have to walk/crawl is now a physical strain as we haven’t walked properly for 2 months (longer for the other 3 girls)
Seriously?? Perhaps ignorantly I didn’t give it enough thought, but I expected our bodies to be toned, tanned and muscly, perhaps in the best physical shape we’ve ever been??… The answer is a big, fat NO!! Instead our muscles have withered away and have become so weak I’m not sure I’d even be able to jump onto my bed when I get home… but at least we have the tan.
So what are we experiencing physically?
Legs: our legs have become good at doing one thing only; to push ourselves back and forth on the rowing seats. The weight of this might be 30kg – 50kg in a leg press equivalent depending on the sea state. Considering that this isn’t even our body weight you can start to see the issue. Since we’re hardly standing we have minimal resting tone in our muscles, taking it from hero to zero. Muscle groups particularly affected are our calves, quads and gluts. All the junk in our trunk has pretty much disappeared! This means that there is more pressure on our seat bones when we row as we lost our “padding au natural”. Our foam seat cushions have flattened a bit with someone constantly sitting on it, but our saving grace has been without a doubt our individual sheep skin. I’ve become very attached to mine…. (We have enough sheep skin for about one each per week)
Hip flexors: it’s a little unfair, but these guys are doing most of the work. Since one of the quad muscles are also a hip flexor, most of the push and pull comes from here. (Hip flexors located front, top thigh). Functionally, due to its attachments when these muscles are tight they pull the pelvis forward and unfortunately this in turn also puts strain on the lower back.
The low back: as mentioned above, the hips pulled forward pulls the back into extension. The “Bucking Bronco” side-to-side and rotation movements that happens during stormy conditions and with one arm rowing also cause the joints to become irritated. Combine this with the strain placed on the vertebral discs and you have a three ingredient recipe for low back pain. Due to its inflammatory nature the pain will mainly be felt during a static sleep shift, but thankfully it will ease off again when you get up and move.
Forearms: rock solid. The forearm muscles are the ones that contract when we grip the oars. Since we are gripping for 12 hrs a day, our wrist flexors are working overtime and causes what we call ‘The Claw’. Claw hand is exactly what it describes; the muscles, tendons and skin becoming so tight it pulls our hands into a claw position, requiring some stretching to alleviate it. The gripping muscles are overstrained and when particularly weak it makes it very difficult to click fingers or open bottles.
Hands: we may look like four female Pacific voyagers, but that’s until you see our hands…! Man hands! Thankfully no blisters, but calluses have transformed our lovely female hands into street cat paws. Well… Whatever needs to happen to get the job done. Our hands also take a slight beating when we are fighting currents or winds (most of the time) causing the joints and tendons to be aggravated which leads to inflammation. The first few minutes on the oars are usually needed to warm up and loosen up. It does feel like you’ve aged about 50 years…
Due to the oar gripping I have also completely lost the fingerprints on my index and middle fingers!
Skin: another truth about ocean rowing is that our skin is constantly covered either in sweat, salt water or suntan lotion. It’s finally taken its toll in the last week when everyone’s skin got really itchy. Making sure we wash the salt off daily is important to stop it from getting worse.
Bums: it’s been mentioned before and it will be mentioned again, we spend a lot of time caring for our derrières. If we don’t, the outcome is pretty uncomfortable, so we either cover in baby powder or lather in sudocreme every 2 hours. The lanolin in our sheepskin also acts as a soothing agent.
Sun Tan: we all love a bit of a sun kissed glow, but I fear some of us may return with a different ethnicity altogether! We tend to cover up in the mid day heat, but otherwise have constant sun cream at the ready. Miraculously, none of us have been sunburnt. Funniest of all, if immigration authorities question ethnicity on arrival into Samoa we only need to show them the back of our thighs for identification. It’s the funniest tan line I’ve ever seen.
I’m told that in comparison between leg 1 and 2, physically there have been a few differences. For Ems, our Cambridge rowing queen she’s been fairly lucky to have minimal problems, just the calluses on her hands. Nats has been much better during this leg and her only complaint is also callused hands. LP unfortunately suffers with hip impingement, ankle stiffness and upper back stiffness. The two of us have luckily been able to give each other some treatments, so keeping niggles at bay.
Thankfully none of our ailments are causing much disruption to our rowing, and during the minimal time we have to do “life” we are making time to look after our bodies.
UPDATE: we’ve had another North West current today. One thing I love is singing in the rain and making up words to existing songs, so with my trusty composer Natalia Cohen, we wrote the following lyrics during a torrential downpour to the song we all love, “I want to break free” by Queen.
We want to break free
We want to break free from this current It’s taking us North West
We want to break free
God knows, God knows we want to break free
We’re rowing hard
We’re rowing so hard that our hands hurt Can’t even click to the beat
Oh, we’re rowing so hard
God knows, God knows we’re rowing so hard
Is it gonna rain? Is that a squall I see coming?
Battle stations at the ready
It is gonna rain
God knows, we’ve got to save the Oreos
Ems and I had a very special morning visit by about 50 dolphins yesterday. I’ve not caught a fish yet. I’ve realised it’s possibly because the hook is too shallow in the water as it gets pulled along with the boat. Going to try make a make-shift weight tomorrow. Fingers crossed.
Also just wanted to say a huge congrats to Izz and Meg for the roaring success of their 24hr row fundraiser. Great work girls, and thanks to Megs family who have been superstars in helping and supporting!
LV xx
Leg 2, Day 57 – The Sisterhood
By Day 57 – The sisterhood
Despite contrary belief, put a group of women together and they do not spend all their time talking about hair, clothes and men! Well actually…I suppose out here we do talk a lot about how bad our hair and clothes smell, and do spend time every day discussing the likes of Albert, Bertie, Bill, Tommy and Fernando to name a few. Hmmmm…have you noticed, dear followers, that every creature that has crossed our path out here on the almighty Pacific has been given a male name?
Apart from one white bird who I named Whitney (Whitney white bird – obviously), we have just all automatically gravitated towards masculine naming of wildlife. I wonder why this is? There is obviously a serious lack of testosterone on Doris, and although we do think about men regularly, enjoy their energy, are very much looking forward to Samoa for certain reasons, our existence right now is one of pure sisterhood. So…we embrace it.
What is it REALLY like on a small boat with 4 women is what everyone is dying to know. You all naturally assume there will be drama and hair pulling. This is not the case. None of us would ever even so much as dream of touching each other’s filthy hair!!
As well as time being a bizarre thing out here on the ocean, space is also an interesting concept. There are moments when our 29ft by 6ft (approx) home feels like the tiniest space in the world. You can walk across the deck in 4 steps and the cabins are cramped, cavelike and filled to the brim with ‘stuff’. This small area is shared by strong, independent, sleep deprived, determined women! Amazingly, there have been no cat fights, bitchiness or hormonal induced arguments. Testament to our different yet complementary personalities and way of dealing with varying situations, we face conflict, if it arises, openly and honestly and then move on. We’re all filled with empathy, look out for each other daily, are intuitive to changing moods and generally face all challenges with impressive group strength and humour. That really is the way it is. No lie.
It is indeed a random existence that we are living and breathing right now and it is not often I am surrounded by 3 women whom I spend the same 24 hour day with – day in and day out with no time on my own and no escape from the bubble that we’re encased in.
There is no personal space whatsoever; nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. You can hear everyone’s conversations and they can hear yours. You can see one another at all times on the boat apart from when you are on Poly when you sit behind the front rower and when both other girls are in the aft cabin and have their sun shade up, so cannot see out. To put it into perspective, we don’t even get to shower, or go to the toilet (a no. 1 or no. 2) without someone watching us!
If you need time on your own you have fleeting opportunities during awake shifts to escape to the minute sized fore cabin filled with the spare dagger board, excess sheepskins (they stink!!), and all the other miscellaneous equipment placed in there. It’s certainly not the most inviting retreat but there is simply nowhere else to go!
We’re exposed so completely and utterly, mentally and physically, that there is no time for modesty, embarrassment or deceit. We know each other intimately almost in the same way husbands and wives do, but obviously none of us share a romantic connection (even though we do enjoy the odd communal shower!?) So, as is to be expected, occasionally, there may be a slight disagreement, a frayed temper or a sleepy silence, but feelings are shared and then any negativity let go of quickly and easily. It amazes me the underlying respect and compassion I have for this incredible sisterhood even if on occasion someone frustrates me to the point where I want to pull faces at the back of them when on Poly.
My travels have thought me that lack of space is common place for the majority of the developing world. I’ve seen countless family homes where 4 or 6 people cram into one room, so in that respect our situation is not that unusual. However, what makes our situation completely unique is that we have nowhere to go even if we wanted to. We’re all in the same boat (literally) and we have to deal with it the best way we can.
Although it is impossible to distance yourself physically on Doris, mentally there are ways of creating personal space. Spending a row shift listening to your own music or an audiobook, is a great way to have some ‘alone time’. I also find that if I begin to feel overwhelmed by the lack of space, all I need to do is sit on the deck and stare out at the immense vastness that is the Pacific Ocean. That never ceases to provide me with the best reminder that I can create my own space in my mind, and that is what I need to draw upon when times get tough. I have always been a person that enjoys brief moments each day of solitude, so having a lack of this is something that dumbfounds me more than having spent 141 days at sea living on a 29ft pink boat. I have not really had any time on my own since leaving San Francisco, so that’s over 5 months (close to half a year) where I have simply not had my own space. This in itself has been an fascinating experience x
UPDATE:
Visits today included Monty the Masked Booby and Daniel the dolphin and his friends.
We also have Salt and Pepper who visit us daily who I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to yet. They are a pair of beautiful, if a little loud, Sooty Terns
Leg 2, Day 56 – Time
Leg 2, Day 56 – Time
Time is a funny thing. It can go really quickly if you are with someone you love or doing something you enjoy. It can go infinitely slowly if you’re in pain or doing something boring. It can feel slow at the time and then feel like it’s passed in a second and play tricks on your mind. You can fill it or you can waste it. You can never get it back once it’s gone so if you don’t seize the opportunity then it is lost forever. Time on Doris is like a roller coaster, sometimes crawling slowly uphill and other times picking up so much speed we loose track of whether we are up or down. In many ways it seems ludicrous that we have spent 139 days at sea on Doris since leaving San Francisco and that it has been 56 days since we departed from the Hawaii Yacht Club on this leg of the journey. Especially when you consider that we have only recently passed the halfway mark. The time has flown past and I can’t even remember what has filled it all. But in other ways it feels like we have been out here forever, our normal lives forgotten and replaced with a new normal where our job is to get out on the oars and row every 2 hours and spend our down time in a tiny cabin. San Francisco feels like another life ago, almost like it never happened and even our time in Hawaii feels like a dream.
The days on board Doris race past quickly living as we do in two hour chunks. With only three day shifts to row and a couple of awake shifts to do our daily admin, before you know it you are back to another night. Then you row and sleep through three night shifts and a new day begins before you have time to realise. I fear that readjustment to real life may be a challenge when we can’t take regular naps, have to make decisions and interact with people outside of the four of us. The days add up at frightening speed and before you know it you are writing a blog for day 56! However the days can also drag in terms of reaching our destination. We have been watching our little boat creep ever closer to the equator on our chart plotter for what seems like weeks, feeling like every time we started making good progress the winds and currents would send us erratically off in a new direction. It was hard not to get dispirited as the days went by and we still hadn’t reached that milestone. When we finally reached it in the middle of a wet and windy night it was a bit of an anticlimax. There was no sign to have our photo next to, no gift shop where we could buy the t-shirt, only four women on a boat, soggy in their wet weather jackets swigging rum from a bottle in a toast to Neptune. Now that we are over that physical and mental halfway point it already seems as if we are moving faster as we count down to Samoa rather than up to the equator.
It is in the individual two hour shifts however that I find time changes speed the most. These shifts can feel either really long or really short depending on your mood, sleepiness or activities. Out on the oars the time mainly passes fairly quickly with chit chat, music or gazing out across the ocean, but occasionally there is a rowing shift where 2 hours just seems endless. The sea feels like rowing through glue, the waves are cold, the steering won’t hold or you just can’t keep your eyes open. Clock watching makes the minutes feel like hours and once you start it is impossible to stop. In the cabin, time also seems to have a mind of its own. Sometimes you can make food, eat, wash yourself and some clothes, brush your hair, tidy your pocket and run the watermaker and still have time for a little lie down and read before heading back out on deck. Other times you manage to eat and then look at the clock and realise there are only 20mins before you need to be back out on the oars.
When time and miles start to crawl along we remind ourselves that there is only two hours until our next meal, snooze or row and then it seems more manageable. If we take care of the hours the days, weeks and months will take care of themselves.
UPDATE: There is enough salt crusted on my skin at the end of every rowing shift to season a fish and chip shop full of chips. We are less than 1000 nautical miles away from Samoa and making good progress in the windy and wet conditions. Lizanne still hasn’t managed to catch a fish despite the fact that all around us are birds managing to catch their dinner. LP provided us all with some middle of the night hysterical laughter by putting on two bikini tops over her sports bra in her sleepy getting ready to row in the cabin state.
Leg 2, Day 55 – The Equator
By Day 55 – The Equator
Emma: We finally crossed the equator at about 3.30am this morning. The Southern Hemisphere greeted us with squally wind and rain but took enough of a break to allow us to toast to Neptune with the bottle of rum which a friend Paul from the Hawaii Yacht Club gave us especially for that purpose. It feels like a big milestone reached to be finally halfway both on this leg of the journey to Samoa and also on the expedition as a whole. We planned to have a couple of hours today to celebrate but the weather is still squally so we had to make do with eating dinner together in the rain and then postpone the rest of the festivities until Neptune sends us some more favourable conditions. Now the countdown is on to Samoa and then Australia. Here’s to following winds and favourable currents!
Lizanne: Yay!! Very happy to have crossed the Equator! I’m incredibly grateful that we have made it this far all healthy and happy. Here’s to a speedy/smooth sailing/wind on our backs second half. I’m not sure what we expected, but torrential rain, stormy clouds and swarms of birds in the distance wasn’t on the list; once again it leaves us paying respect to the ever changing ocean. We were planning to swim across the equator, which I’ve been dreaming of for weeks, but due to our arrival being in the pitch black night, the unfavourable weather, and the fact that we’ve been followed by a shark for the past few days made this a 3 times NO!Regardless of weather, it’s been a special day as we have reached the milestone that means we are edging out of the doldrums. We can finally start entertaining the thoughts of fresh fruit and that first shower!
A toast to Neptune, cheers!
Natalia: Reaching the equator was an amazing landmark for all of us. Wooohoooo! We’re over half way now and that means that we can begin a new mental journey. Although the picture perfect, still water and blue sky was not sent our way, Neptune ensured that we will never forget his power for providing change and unpredictability in his almighty ocean. The numerous downpours stopped us carrying out our special social time plans, so these will be resumed at a later stage. We did however have a great, if brief, toast to Neptune in the early hours with my all time favourite spiced rum, then today we sat in the rain, ate a communal lunch and toasted again to the ridiculous equator conditions with our fruit pot deserts and ‘Happy’ song by Tetra C2C feat. Derek Martin! A special thanks to Jay for having the unique idea to sponsor us with 4 songs to be played at this pivotal point of the journey. The other 3 will be played when we celebrate for real in the coming days. Watch this space and bring on Samoa…
Laura: Wow…… We have finally reached a momentous milestone in our journey, the equator! This to me is a pivotal point. To help me chunk the whole row, I have visualised the equator to be half way of the journey and half way between Hawaii and Samoa (even though it’s a little over for both). The fact we have reached half way excites me no end! To think we are now on the count down to home sweet home, which I have been thinking about since week 1 after leaving San Fran in April. Reaching the equator actually felt quite emotional, but this was short lived considering the conditions we were in and the timing of our arrival. The idyllic expectation was that we would arrive around 16:00 with blue sky and blazing sun, we would bask in the glory of reaching the equator and toast to Neptune before having a 2hr social as a team. Of course we have learnt by now that the Pacific can never be predicted and often will do the opposite to our expectations. So of course our arrival was 03:30AM not PM, it was pitch black, the seas were choppy, the wind was squally and there were torrential downpours – perfect! Our toast to Neptune was a momentary pause amongst the mayhem of the weather and gave us a second to appreciate where we were. With just the numbers of the latitude on the chartplotter to go by, there’s no lights, or flags, or marker buoys in the sea to note the equatorial line. So the whole process is very surreal albeit very cool too to think we are the first team of 4 to ever row across the equator!
UPDATE:
We reached the equator!!!! x
Leg 2, Day 54 – England Rugby
Day 54 – England Rugby
I can’t believe the time is here for the Rugby World Cup to arrive in the UK and games are already underway. In my head, I thought we would be nearing the finish line around now and hopefully be back home in time to catch the final England game, unfortunately the winds, currents and timeline has not been on our side, so needless to say, I am gutted to be missing out on all the excitement of the rugger back home. One bonus is that our next stop is Samoa, so being home to many a rugby player, I’m hoping there may be somewhere to watch a game or two on our stopover.
I’ve talked previously about role models and individuals that have inspired me along the way, but one of the biggest learning curves to come out of this row, will be what it takes to make a great team. There certainly is no recipe to this, but I’m sure by the end of the row I’ll be able to highlight the key characteristics that brought us together, the shared values and beliefs that kept us focussed and the antics we got up to keep morale high. Certainly working to bring a team together in the first place, I researched and spent time with a number of effective teams, from Army to Sport to business. One of the biggest in sport that stood out and influenced me the most, is that of the England Rugby team.
Head Coach Stuart Lancaster, has got amazing vision to see potential in players, to nurture them and build their confidence, to draw them together with shared passion and values. As with us, it’s not just about the playing team, it’s the team behind the team that give it strength and England RFU have an excellent support crew in place; from truly experienced and esteemed coaching staff, to the expertise of the Strength and Conditioning team, the physio’s and medic, to the performance analyst team that spend hours behind the scenes drawing together an obscene amount of footage, the nutritionist and Sport Psychologist that play key roles, the admin team that keep everything running smoothly and most importantly not forgetting the kit man (always a crucial role within any team).
I have been fortunate enough in my profession, to have had the opportunity to spend time at Penny Hill Park. A good friend of mine and previous colleague, is Dan Lewindon who has been a physio for the team for some years. He is testament to the type of personality and character of those that work there, he excels as a physio, never stopping to learn more and dedicated to be the best he can be. He is kind, caring and thoughtful, yet assertive and focussed to get the results.
On the times that I have been to their training ground, I have never felt like an outsider. The team, both players and staff, are immediately welcoming and appear comfortable with someone new being in their environment. They maintain a grounded and humbled persona and no matter who they are, they are all very approachable. The atmosphere they create is one of professionalism balanced with an abundance of good banter (crucial to any team!). I was extremely lucky to have the opportunity to sit in on a morning team debrief with all the players and hear Stuart Lancaster address them with play feedback on video analysis. Delivery of key messages done assertively yet immediately supportive with how to improve. Plans, processes are all clear as day so any one player knows exactly what their role is and what their goals are to achieve. Simple methods, but hard to do well and extremely effective when they are.
Chris Robshaw also creates a great role model for what a good leader looks like, someone that is reliable, gets stuck in to do the graft, is supportive, remains calm yet authoritative in given situations, but more importantly, recognises and respects the strength of his team around him ‘I may be the captain, but I’m a captain of many leaders’ (quote to that effect). This quote has always stuck with me, on and off this boat, each of the girls leads on a different area. They may have the skill set or have worked with our team of experts around us to develop those skills.
So we have a lot to thank the England Rugby team for and are only sorry we can’t be there in person and team as support over the coming weeks, but rest assured, we will be screaming out into the Pacific words of encouragement and sending our positive vibes back across the equator.
An adapted quote from Any Given Sunday for the boys:
‘You find out life’s this game of inches. So is rowing. So is rugby. Because in either game, life, rowing or rugby the margin for error is so small — I mean one-half a stroke too late, or too early, and you don’t quite make it. One-half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite catch it.
The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They’re in every break of the game, every minute, every second.
On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch’
Smash it England, show the world how it’s done!
“GOOD LUCK ENGLAND RUGBY”
Update:
Tantalisingly close to the equator!! As I write this message we are less than 10nm away from toasting to Neptune.
Leg 2, Day 53 – The Middle
Day 53 – The Middle
My best friend got married today… And though I’ve thrown myself passionately head first into the row, for the first time since starting this adventure I’ve wanted to be elsewhere. Unfortunately due to the delays caused in Leg 1 and our difficulty with currents, my bridesmaid dress remained in the closet. Overcoming adversity… it comes in all shapes and sizes.
Ocean Rowing… Absolutely unpredictable.
So I’d like to raise a cyber toast and say a huge congratulations to the gorgeous couple, Anna and Phil.
Needless to say the emotion on Doris has quivered over the past few days as I missed the wedding and we’re teetering on the edge of the Equator about 3 weeks later than originally thought; it’s a mental milestone for all of us. So you can expect a pensive blog today.
Everything happens for a reason?.. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I came to be out here, and not at the wedding, or not anywhere else for that matter. It’s one thing reading about an intrepid adventure, but when it comes down to the crux of it all; how do you make the decision that “yes please, I’d love to go and row an ocean”? Where does the seed that was planted as an idea flourish into an answer? How do you muster up the courage to take a leap of faith knowing full well that the leap will propel you far beyond your comfort zone?
The answer will be different for everyone, and there isn’t a right or a wrong. Having something in your life that allows you to believe that the decisions you make are the right ones will ultimately be the difference between “yes” and “maybe”, “excellence” and “average” and eventually “possible” and “impossible”
I sat on the edge of my answer for a while. I had recently bought a practice which increased my responsibility and kept me incredibly busy and I found myself at a crossroad; my head telling me what the sensible thing would be, but my heart (as usual) fighting to be heard and eventually get it’s own way. The back and forth/pros and cons lists consumed me, until my answer came one day, loud and clear in the form of a sermon by a lady called Charlotte Gambill, her insight and faith completely contagious. She was over from the UK for the Cape Town Women’s Colour Conference and I made it to one of her talks. About 7mins into her talk she said “imagine you’re on a little rowing boat, in the middle of the ocean, with no one around you”. With thousands of women in the arena, it felt like she was there speaking only to me. I went home and emailed Laura, I was doing the row. To be honest, my faith has been integral in my rowing experience, and for me is the thing that puts a smile on my face.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be in “the Middle” of somewhere… Hear me out.
The beginning of something is always new and exciting with endless possibilities. It’s where your motivation is highest, procrastination lowest, inspired by a new beginning. At the beginning of the race you’ve got that nervous energy, ready to put into practice the months of training you’ve been doing. In short, the beginning is always great.
The end of something is usually an accomplishment, a milestone reached, an end of an era, or cause for celebration. Yes, it’s sometimes a sad occasion, but mostly the end of something always brings change, and change is as good as a holiday, right? In the race it’s the feeling of joy, satisfaction and blissful relief as you reach the finish line.
….and then you get ‘the middle’. It’s the bit no one really talks about. It’s not exciting, it’s not inspirational, it’s the boring bit that everyone wants to skip to ‘get rich quick’ and it’s the part of the relationship where you lose each other, only to realise years later that something needs to be done. It’s where all the hard work happens and is the easiest place for us to lose focus as procrastination sets in. It’s the middle that sets you apart from 1st and 2nd place, and it’s where possible is bridged with impossible. If we’re not careful, it’s the space that was only supposed to occupy your life for a short while, and instead it becomes your life; mediocrity.
Right now, in the MIDDLE of the ocean it’s where we’re overlooking our niggles, fighting with the ocean, ignoring the refreshing call of an ocean dip to make it to our destination. It’s the hard work that pays off in the end, and like Charlotte says, it’s in the middle where you find out what’s in the middle of you…
I wasn’t at Anna’s wedding, but I’ll be in her middle.
Our sunset today, in the middle of the Pacific
On a personal note: it’s wedding season, and a huge congrats to Karla and Jeff, and Lydia and Dereck who got married last month. Looking forward to catch up and hearing all about it.
UPDATE: Gobbledygook moment of the week- as I narrated The Lion King to Laura on our night shift a few days ago, from me there was the occasional addition of snack packs to the storyline, but best of all, when I got to the section where Simba was in trouble in the Elephants graveyard LP leaned back and offered me her ore to give to Simba to help him out. Cute.
Leg 2, Day 52 – The Senses
Day 52 – The senses
We had our longest continual rainfall in the Doldrums. A torrential downpour began and only stopped 12 hours later…
Ask anyone who knows me well and they will confirm that I don’t enjoy being wet. Furthermore being cold and wet is possibly one of the quickest ways to bring out the worst in me. Rain is one of my least favourite things. Well…at least the rain in the UK that is.
There is a reason why I left Manchester nearly 20 years ago and the grey sky and constant drizzle were definitely up there amongst the deciding factors.
Yet out here on the almighty Pacific, I’m learning to embrace the rain.
On this leg of the journey, it can offer huge respite from the heat and is a great way to refresh the body. We watch the squalls heading our way. It’s usually a grey, ominous cloud and a wall of water heading in our direction or just an incredibly dramatic dark cloud formation that suddenly appears next to or above us.
The wonderful thing about the rain is that it evokes all your senses.
Sight – In the Doldrums what seems to happen is that just as the squall hits, the sky looks very dramatic, then the downpour flattens out the water and the colours all turn monochrome. The droplets dance on the water’s surface and the waves form a layered effect similar to that of misty mountain ranges stretching out in the distance as far as the eye can see. It’s an incredibly beautiful sea state.
Sound – You can hear the rain hit the hood of your jacket, peak of your baseball cap or the deck of the boat whilst rowing and when inside the cabin, the pitter patter of rain drops on the roof makes you feel all cosy and cocooned.
Smell – The smell of rain on hot boat is not too dissimilar to rain on hot tarmac. The other smell that the rain brings is that of freshness and a clearing of the air.
Taste – Rain water is so beautifully sweet especially compared to our usual desalinated water. I always a open my mouth wide, stick my tongue out and lift my head to the heavens, to catch a little rain when possible.
Touch – Now that the temperatures are higher, we are often wearing bikinis/sports bras during the day and wet weather jackets with shorts at night, so the rain can be felt directly on the skin. The light rain tickles our bodies but when a heavy squall passes through, the drops prick our arms and legs like sharp needles. It is, however, always good to have a fresh water shower from the rain to clear the salt build up and our skin always feels smooth and clean after a good soaking.
I’m not sure if it’s because we are surrounded by nature or it’s because we can live so completely in the moment, but it seems much easier to draw upon all your senses during any and every activity out here. Compared to the usual distractions and mental noise you find in city life, there is definitely more opportunity for mindful and meditative states to be felt here in isolation from fully observing our senses. It’s easier to go deeper into the sensations that arise from the senses we feel and for me, I feel as if my senses are heightened while on Doris.
Just for a moment, enter our world…
Sight
Everything on Doris. Four women. All equipment on the boat.
Our view – the ocean’s varying sea states and the rich wildlife she holds. It’s easy to lose yourself in the colours and textures of the water surrounding you and the cloud formations and colours of the sky above. For all of us, this staring out into the vast expanse of ever changing Pacific everyday, is our main form of mindfulness.
So basically when we’re not looking at the ocean and the sky, we’re looking at each other and everything on Doris. We also have books and photos for visual stimulation.
Colour variety we get from our clothes and from the sunset and sunrises.
I would say the main colour that we miss more then any other out here is green.
Sound
The oars pulling through the water is one of the most distinctive sounds of this journey.
The ocean – from the crashing of waves to the deep silence.
The wind – from a gentle whisper to a powerful howl.
The wildlife – from the distinct sound of whale surfacing and spouting out its blowhole to the squawking birds and splash of a jumping fish. The boat – the water-maker, the autopilot, the rudder and the waves lapping against the side of the cabins. There are many creaks and random noises that we are now accustomed to on Doris and if there is any new sound heard, it is investigated fully.
Four women – the voices and laughter that drift into the cabin from the pair on the oars or that waft out to the oars from the pair in the cabin. There are also a multitude of bodily sounds!
Personal iPod – audiobooks and music create a great auditory distraction.
Satellite phone – nothing quite like the sound of a loved one’s voice. We have an opportunity to chat to our families once a week wherever possible.
Smell
Everything passes through a sniff test on Doris.
The ocean – the smell of the ocean in the middle of the ocean is minimal. Most of the time we just breathe in fresh, pure air and there is no smell attached. We have however had times where we’ve smelt fish, oil (when coming into Santa Barbara and passed the oil rigs) and seaweed.
The boat – the rubbish bin, overheating electronics, fermenting snack packs, food being prepared, air freshener and the food hatches.
Products – talc powder, sudocreme, after sun, lip balm, washing detergent, soap, sun cream. Our sleeping liners, towels and clothes all have their moments of smelling pretty bad but with that great washing detergent that smells amazing, we manage to reintroduce a good scent after hand washing.
Four women – you would think that we all stink, but I can’t smell the others and although we sometimes think that we ourselves smell, no one else seems to notice each other. We do notice the smell of our clothes and the one thing we all agree on, is that our hair smells disgusting.
Touch
The ocean and the elements – feeling the waves splash, the wind blow, the rain fall and the sun warm or heat our skin.
The boat – we spend 12 hours of every day holding our oar handles. They feel smooth, grainy, slimy, wet or dry depending on the time of day and conditions. Depending on the state of our hands, holding these oars can also cause tendon pain.
Four women – we rub talc, sudocreme and sun cream onto our own bodies and sun cream onto each other. Our skin is wonderfully soft from all this moisturising, but the main thing felt when we touch our skin, are our hard callused hands.
Taste
The ocean – saltwater on our faces and on our water bottle lids from the splashes Food – our main meals are not the most varied or tasty if we’re honest. They are mainly a source of fuel and necessary daily intake of calories. Our snack packs on the other hand are a different story. This is the bag that packs a punch with a multitude of flavours. From the infamous oreos, to cereal bars, sweets, dried fruit, packet tuna, savoury crackers and the piste de resistance, the jelly beans. I am constantly amazed at how something so small can cause such a taste sensation. Guessing the flavour of each is a highlight of my day when a handful are found in a snack pack.
Sixth sense
We do all also have this wonderful intuition.
At nighttime if the stars or moon are not lighting our way, it is still sometimes possible to know when splashes are coming or rain is approaching as we seem to feel their presence or proximity.
We feel the moods of each other and usually without anyone saying anything, we can instinctively know that something is not right.
UPDATE:
We’ve hit 00 degrees …Woooohhoooo…so will pass the equator any day now.
We were also visited by Fernando the shark today.
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