Leg 3, Day 63 – Emotions

By Natalia Cohen

On 11 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 63 – Emotions

As we inch slowly, stroke by stroke towards our goal, it’s only natural that we will all now begin to reflect on our journey and our emotions will run high.

As different as each of us is in personality, the way we deal with our emotions is equally as variable. Some of us wear our heart on our sleeves and no emotion can be hidden where others have spent years building an emotional wall and find it difficult to openly express how they are feeling. In whatever form an emotion gets expressed on the boat, however, there is no hiding it.

The first thing we do when we enter the world is cry. This simple act symbolises the first breath of life and good health for the baby which in turn provokes happiness and relief for the mother. For something that in its simplest form is such a positive emotion, it is interesting that as time goes on and we get older this gesture can develop negative connotations synonymous with weakness and vulnerability.

Quite frankly I think that there is nothing better than a good cry. It’s a great form of release and once the tears have fallen, you are more clear headed and focussed. There’s no denying that it’s cathartic. I would say that when starting this challenge, I was definitely the most emotionally open of the team. I’ve always been happy to use crying as a tool for dealing with stress, frustration and happiness, so generally speaking, tears fall easily and often for me. When I found myself surrounded by 5 fairly emotionally guarded women, I decided to make it a personal mission to get them all to embrace their feelings on the boat and share them.

I basically wanted to make them all cry!

As we enter the final stage of our odyssey, I like to think that I have been successful in not only creating a safe and accepting environment for all of us to allow our emotions to arise freely and be expressed, but also for that shared emotional experience to be one that has strengthened and united the team.

Onboard Doris there has been many a tear shed. Tears of laughter, joy, happiness, frustration, exhaustion, pain, sadness and nostalgia. We’ve cried alone in the back rowing position with no one witnessing except the ocean and we’ve shared tears of empathy and compassion in pairs and in a group.

It always amazes me what random things can cause people to cry and that there are many people who actually find it very difficult to cry. Out of the 6 of us, all of us have cried tears of laughter during our adventure and all of us have cried over something very random. Sleep deprivation may have a little something to with it.
Ems – when she couldn’t single handedly control the 1 tonne Doris
LP – when her favourite pink bikini top went overboard in a Doris tragedy
Nats – when I realised that Eduardo the shark was not coming back to see us
Meg – when her iPod broke ;(
LV – when she realised that she couldn’t just get up and go for a walk
Izz – when reading her blog about LP, Ems and I (she welled up more than cried)

I would say the person who I still need to do some work on is Izz, as although she has definitely opened up more emotionally during the row, is still yet to show me a satisfactory cry!

Emotions fascinate me. The way they arise so suddenly in your body as a subtle sensation and then grow and manifest before revealing themselves properly to you and others. Learning how to recognise them before they develop and then with a balanced mind, deciding how to deal with them. If only it was that easy!

In a way, everything that happens in life, and indeed out here on the almighty Pacific, triggers one emotion or another. These mix of emotions are what makes all experiences worthwhile, memorable and real.

We’ve all been through a plethora of emotions on this boat that’s for sure…but none of them will come close to the overwhelming feeling we are sure to experience as we step off Doris for the final time in Australia. I have no doubt many tears will fall x

UPDATE:
As you know we still have an ambitious target of 100k followers that we would like to reach. One stroke at a time, I know, but if we could get our Facebook followers up to 10k by the time we get to Oz, I think that may even make Izz cry tears of joy!!
Spread the word far and wide everyone as it’s not long now. We need your help! x

Leg 3, Day 62 – are we nearly there yet?

By The Team

On 10 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Today’s blog comes from the one and only Tony Humphreys.

My involvement with ocean rowing dates back to 2001 when I was working as the Ops Manager for The Challenge Business, a company established by Sir Chay Blyth. Sir Chay, having rowed the Atlantic in 1966, had the crazy/genius idea to create a one-design rowing race across the Atlantic, which undoubtedly was responsible for the proliferation of ocean rowing as we know it today. Although I’ve never rowed an ocean (sailing oceans is where I’m at….), I have through my involvement with ocean rowing races and supporting independent ocean rows been involved with 138 ocean rows (not all of which were successful) across the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans.

Four years ago to the day I received an enquiry to assist an all female team of six to row the Indian Ocean. A month later the plan had evolved into rowing the Pacific in three legs as a team of four women and over the following three years, despite several setbacks and changes within the team, the Coxless Crew became established and rowing the Pacific looked set to become a reality.

Not much further now, but potentially some of the hardest rowing lies ahead in order to navigate between the many off lying reefs and islets before crossing the Great Barrier Reef. At the moment the weather looks to remain favourable for the foreseeable, so fingers crossed we are looking at an arrival window sometime between the 18th and 22nd January, with the usual caveat that ocean rowing boats rarely exceed expectations and usually only ever arrive later than estimated.

Tony – aka Uncle Tone/Charlie

UPDATE:
For those that don’t know, we are committed to continue raising money for our charities, hold fundraising events and do presentations for a few months after our arrival back in the UK. This means that there is a good possibility that all 6 of us will continue blogging daily once we leave our Pacific home and continue to share some land insights, challenges and stories with you all even after our arrival in Cairns.
400 miles to go! x

Leg 3, Day 61 – Still rowing

By Emma Mitchell

On 9 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 61 – Still rowing

Since leaving San Francisco in the early hours of the morning on 20th April 2015 and rowing out under the Golden Gate Bridge we have covered a huge 8115nm. With only 452nm to go until we reach Cairns and our final destination where we will step off Doris for the final time, we have completed over 94.7% of our journey. Now the challenge is to keep focused and stay safe as we navigate through and around some Cayes and reefs before approaching the Great Barrier Reef and finally Cairns.

Yesterday saw an invasion of our little blue bubble of Pacific by no less than 6 cargo ships. The first passed us during the night. The second came within a mile of us, approaching as Megs and I sat on the oars on the sunrise shift. As dawn broke the sound of the boat, which was an enclosed cargo ship and strongly resembled the kind of boat a child has in their bathtub, reached us across the still and silent ocean and the dark shadow came closer and closer. As he passed us he tooted his horn in greeting. During the afternoon and evening another three boats passed close to us. Having a chat to them over our VHF radio is great fun and the experience often makes our entire day. Megs and I spotted a final boat in our middle night shift, seeing its lights on our starboard side as it passed parallel to us. LP brought me some PG Tips teabags for a Christmas present and Megs and I have been enjoying a taste of home on the oars under the starry sky.

We have also been seeing more signs of life in the skies at night, spotting more than one plane on each of the last three nights. It is exciting after so long to feel like there are other people out here with us but it also feels like a little bit of an invasion of our personal space after feeling like we’ve had the ocean to ourselves for so long.

The way that the ocean shifts and changes so much still astounds me. After a few days of glassy silent water and burning heat the wind picked up steadily over last night and the waves returned. This is good news for us as this wind is blowing us towards Australia at an average speed of over 2kts and is set to stay for at least a few days. We are taking advantage of it while it is still here and pushing on hard towards our next waypoint which is just north of Observatory Cay about 80nm from our current position.

Leg 3, Day 60 – Meggy Moo

By Laura Penhaul

On 8 Jan 2016 in At Sea

I have previously described how Ems, Izz and Lizanne got involved in the row and so today’s light is shone on Megs aka. Meggy moo, Megsy, who’s involvement has been paramount in this final leg of the journey.

Meg Dyos had applied to be part of the row at the same time as Izz, Lizanne and Nats, having seen the article on Escape The City’s website. What drew me to Meg’s application was how her personality shone through in her answers. At the age of 24 she had achieved more than most have in a lifetime and showed a wealth of experience and enthusiasm about charity fundraising. Megs had previously shaved her own head in front of her school to raise money, she slept rough on the streets to understand what life was like, she’s climbed Kili, been to Peru, worked in Nepal and travelled through India and Africa. As Nats has previously alluded to in a blog, age is just a number and without a doubt Megs is so much more worldly wise and well travelled than I ever was at that age.

The first time we met was at Waterloo station, where after chatting on the phone we’d arranged for a trip down to Christchurch so that Megs could be introduced to Doris. Spending the day together with no distractions, gave me a great insight into a relationship with Meg and I knew instantly that she would be perfect for the team. Her bubbly, enthusiastic and positive character was exactly what any team would need. After being part of the Bisham selection day, Meg was definitely short listed for the next review with Fieri on the Breacon Beacons. Unfortunately though Meg couldn’t make it to the Breacons and at that point had decided that too many things in her life were unsettled and that going on the row at that point wouldn’t have been sensible. We stayed in touch occasionally on text or phone, so when I got a text in January 2015 from Megs saying ‘don’t forget that I would still love to be involved, so if there’s anything I can do please let me know…’ I jumped at it! It came right after Izzy had come to the difficult decision to be there for her family and would only be able to complete the first leg. Timing is everything and I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, so when I received Meg’s text there was no hesitation to give her a call.

Standing on a platform at Clapham junction has never been so exciting as I phoned Meg in response to her text. The first five minutes were the usual pleasantries of catch up before cutting to the chase ‘So Meg, you mentioned you were still keen to be part of the row, does this mean you would be up for being considered to row a leg, say from Samoa to Australia?’ I think the response was ‘oh my god, yes! Flippin’ heck, but I’ve never rowed?!’ After having some time to think about it, Meg still came back to me enthusiastic about joining the team and life for her had settled, so timing was perfection. For Meg, this was the time the Coxless Crew journey began…. I wonder how much she regrets that now?!

As soon as Megs got involved she was dedicated to the cause, running her own fundraising events back home, rallying her family and friends (who have played as big a role in supporting us as Meg has), she got stuck into following her strength programme and having meetings with Alex, plus her favourite time was spent focussing on the psych aspect with Keith. I recall a heads up from Keith that Megs favourite phrase was ‘I’m fine!’ Not a phrase good enough or detailed enough for any psych to be content with and so a love hate relationship for Megs began.

Seeing Meg’s beautiful smiling face when we arrived in Samoa was such a comfort to see. She knew everyone and was busy helping and coordinating support for us where she could. The difficulty was getting her to realise that she was part of the row team now and not support team. I hope to think that now after 60 days at sea that she finally feels just as part of this team as anyone of us as she has played a crucial role. On Doris Meg has without a doubt been a ray of sunshine during a leg that for the 3 of us, could very well have become mentally one of the most challenging. I for one have found I’m more reflective and getting more easily frustrated at slow progress with the draw of land forever closer, but Meg just brings a great sense of humour to the boat at the best times. I have upmost respect for Megs in that she knows who she is, she doesn’t worry easily about what people think of her and she epitomises our values especially integrity. I love her true openness and honesty that she has shared from day one of meeting, it is so refreshing, she’s not scared to vocalise when she’s fearful of something, or to celebrate in the small things. You know where you stand with Meg and although her strong left field opinions are often based on a Google search rather than anything of solid substance, she does love a good debate on random subjects which makes a 2hr row session fly by.

I could continue writing oodles of great things about Megs, but as with the rest of the girls, she has made a place in our hearts to be a true friend for life, a solid Coxless Crew member that brings some ‘Fogle’ to the mix and without question has made this last final leg a memorable and enjoyable experience that without her it wouldn’t be the same. We love you Megs and thanks for being you!

Memorable moment with Megs : dancing on New Years Day
Memorable tune : Faithless Insomnia

Update: Today Megs had her debut on the VHF radio where she spoke at length with Jovo Ligud Baliao, Captain of the Nona Butler Cargo ship. I think this made her week or even month as Jovo may have competed with my Harry obsession, there’s obviously something about a nice voice over the radio waves. I’m sure if she wasn’t in love with Will back home that Will you may have had some competition on your hands! Otherwise another hot and sticky day in the Pacific but hopefully from tonight the winds should be picking back up in our favour, here’s hoping and wishing on all the shooting stars we see!

Leg 3, Day 59 – Aunty Jane and her Pacific Ocean

By Meg Dyos

On 7 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 59 – Aunty Jane and her Pacific Ocean

Pressure points on the bum cheeks causing shooting pains when in a seated position – but there is no other position, it is the rowing position and to get to Cairns we need to sit like this. Whilst getting constantly splashed, and whilst watching the miles dissolve painfully slowly, out here, whilst sitting on the oars, it is sometimes difficult to remember why we are actually putting ourselves through this. But then you remember, that it is our choice to do this. We are choosing to cross the Pacific, and yet many people don’t choose to cross their own Pacific. In fact they are forced to face it, and then cross it. My Aunty Jane is someone who remains at the forefront of my mind in this challenge. Her strength, determination and positivity is mind blowing and she has continued to inspire me throughout my life. I asked her to write a bit about her experience of cancer, and I can’t thank her enough for sharing her story, sharing her Pacific Ocean that she has been forced to cross. Every day we receive emails from people who share stories like Janes, it is these that keep us going to remain resilient until we reach Cairns and then after, in raising 250k for Breast Cancer Care and Walking for the Wounded.

My Aunty Wendy (janes sister) has worked as a cancer nurse for the majority of her career, I also asked her to write a small bit on her experience of cancer:

‘For many a diagnosis of cancer, or the big C as many call it, is their worst fear. It is like standing on the shore facing a challenge and you cannot predict how the journey will go, exactly how long it will last or whether you will even survive it. Your body will change, through surgery and treatment. You wont look the same, or feel the same about how you look. You will have days where no-one really understands what you are going through. There are days where you cannot bear the thought of getting up and going for your next treatment, you are too tired. Days where you have to push yourself to do anything. Days where you feel like you can conquer the disease. Days when you think the disease is winning. Then, once all the treatment is over, what do I do now, my life has been all about beating cancer… now what? How do I get back to normal, what is normal any more?’

Janes story

‘I was young, energetic, and in my twenties when I discovered several lumpy areas in my very ample breasts, I felt invincible, I liked running, and was physically fit, I had also recently become vegetarian. I had a job I loved and lived a full, busy life. I had a few emotional ups and downs related to failed relationships but didn’t think for a moment I may be unwell. I went to the doctors and got referred to a general surgeon who decided that the largest lump should be removed, this happened a couple of times and the lumps were described as calcifications. my surgeon stated that I just had unusually lumpy breasts, I was left with scars but was never offended by them nor got bogged down by their appearance.

It was a few weeks before my thirtieth birthday when I found a smartie sized disc of a lump in my upper right breast, it was entirely different to the previous calcifications so back to the usual routine of doctor, surgeon, hospital, and operation, I naively never considered that this lump may be cancer, that surely happened to other people…not me! The surgery went well and my charming surgeon went to great lengths to “preserve my beauty”(his words) making an incision around the areola of my nipple and channelling under the skin to reach the lump, the result was impressive and I went home. Within hours I received a phone call to return to the hospital without delay, when you take a call like that you know it can only mean one thing.

My sister Sally came with me and it’s probably just as well as I don’t think I took in a great amount of the content of the ensuing conversation once the word cancer was mentioned, my surgeon said he always had concerns about me and my breast “makeup”. From then I was swept along with a multi treatment approach, first about a third of my breast was taken away to ascertain if there was any evidence of spread, to back this up about eight lymph nodes were taken from under my arm for the same reason, no choice now regarding “preserving my beauty”. Thankfully the results confirmed that there was no indication that the cancer had spread, I was thirty years old and considered very young to be diagnosed with such a disease, I felt immensely fortunate to have had the condition caught so early on, I have always been aware that for some people the cancer has spread to a far greater extent before they are even aware that they have cancer leaving them often with less favourable outcomes.

Instead of thinking “Why me?” I just focused on “Why not me?” and prepared myself for chemotherapy, radiation with iridium wires, and radiotherapy all of which were being done to hopefully clear my body and the immediate site of any stray cancer cells that may have been lurking about. The chemotherapy which I had, did not cause me to lose my hair but the process and associated drugs did make me put weight on, cause me to get mouth ulcers and leave me with the taste of rusty metal in my mouth. I used to drink camomile tea when the chemotherapy was being administered and to this day (over twenty years on) can not bear the smell or taste of camomile.

The iridium wire treatment involved five radio active iridium wires being inserted into my remaining two thirds of breast and left in place for three days in a controlled situation. I was in a small room at the hospital and visitors were restricted to a twenty minute visit and were not allowed beyond a protective lead screen. The room which was the last in a corridor, at the end of a block actually had yellow and black radioactive tape and signs both on the door and externally in the grounds. After three days the iridium wires were removed, I had ten holes which were entry and exit points for the wires, I don’t think this treatment is actually used any more. Finally I had twelve lots of radiotherapy focused specifically on my breast. I have two black dot tattoos which were used each week to align the treatment to exactly the same area. Of all the treatments this was the least invasive yet this was what I disliked the most as it involved being left completely alone in a room for thirty minutes with some music playing, I recall it being a little too soul searching and tears rolling from my eyes whilst I lay there strictly motionless.

Upon reflection I think that perhaps I suffered from transference in that I expanded a huge amount of energy grieving failed relationships but never really got upset about having cancer. I had some counselling sessions but did not find the process particularly helpful, I was blessed by having fantastic support from family and friends and found work the constant in my life that provided a welcome distraction to bury myself in. I really do think the experience made me a far better person and none of us know what we are capable of until we are tested. I was left with vastly different sized breasts but didn’t dwell on it, I had been through enough and it was the least of my worries. I was just glad to be alive. Most of my friends were settling down, getting married and having children, in that regard I still had hopes and dreams but had been warned that getting pregnant would be a very risky business. What doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger resonated with me ….I was not unscarred by the experience in more ways than one and acknowledged only in the last five years how unhappy I was with my uneven breast appearance. An operation that should have probably been done fifteen years earlier sorted the imbalance.

But it was not to last …..

Just over two years ago, twenty years plus on from my first diagnosis and age fifty, I got recalled after a routine annual mammogram and went back to Kent and Canterbury Hospital to undergo fine needle aspiration to extract a sample from a chain of “white dots ” which had shown up on the mammogram and were cause for concern. I had to wait a week for the results and upon my return seven days later it was confirmed to be cancer for a second time in the same breast as before. I had prepared myself for this news and naively thought that it would just be cut out. What I had not prepared myself for was the statement “You will need a mastectomy” I just had not considered this and left the hospital in a bit of a daze to the extent that I had a small collision with a minibus at the end of the road. I called work and explained that I needed the rest of the day off.

What followed were appointments with a plastic surgeon to look at options for a mastectomy followed by immediate reconstruction. As I had plenty of belly fat it was decided that this would be used to create a new breast, quite amazing in fact! I had a rather bad experience with morphine post op and had to wear a support bra and tummy support 24 hours a day for several weeks. Given that this breast had already been subjected to quite a lot first time around may have contributed to some major healing issues that required negative vacuum wound therapy to
assist with the healing process. The result is not perfect and efforts are being made to improve the outcome but once again I feel so very fortunate to have received an early diagnosis, I find the NHS quite marvellous. As I am surrounded by female family I was able to be tested to look at the genetics to see if my family were at greater risk, I am pleased to say that the results revealed that they are not affected genetically with what is known so far by the experts, however I have been advised that I remain high risk and can elect for risk reducing surgery by having my remaining real breast removed which I am seriously considering as I do not wish to wait to see if I will get breast cancer for a third time. When I came to discuss this I was a little overwhelmed by the various options available following mastectomy; implants, back fat, thigh fat or a combination!

My experience of breast cancer second time around is one that I feel should be spoken about to raise awareness. I work with a team of some young people, and many men and I want people to know what has happened to me because unfortunately, some of their girlfriends, sisters and mothers will be affected by this disease. Being older this time around I am less sensitive and have the support of my friends, family and my then fiancé who is now my husband. I know that I am high risk so for that reason I try to value the time I have and take a few more risks in how I live my life. I do have wobbles of confidence but generally am very happy with who I am and treasure my life.

It is not what happens in life, it is how you deal with it and I have taught myself to be positive. I think that positivity is hugely powerful.

I am immensely touched that my experience of cancer has played a small part in motivating Meg, my beautiful brave niece to row the Pacific Ocean as part of the all female Coxless Crew who along with the team have made Breast Cancer Care one of their chosen charities, girls I salute you.

All my love Jane x

Leg 3, Day 58 – Doris’ journey

By Natalia Cohen

On 6 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 58 – Doris’ journey

I can’t believe that this journey is nearly drawing to an end. It’s challenged and fulfilled me more than I ever knew it would. I never expected to be out here so long and I know that the 6 women travelling with me certainly didn’t plan for so many delays either. I’ve got to know each of them intimately. I’ve shared in their smiles, laughter and lighthearted fun and empathised with their frustrations, challenges, tears and pain. We’ve all been through a lot together and I like to hope that I’ve been successful in my job as protector and guide across the almighty Pacific as well as offering them the safest environment to be exactly who they needed to be, fight their demons, learn their lessons and rejoice in their own strengths.

They have worked so hard for this.

My journey has been a wonderful and educational one. It’s my first experience of crossing an ocean and I’ve learnt so much not only about Oceania, but also myself. I have had to adapt the way I move in different conditions, fight adverse currents, deal with extreme temperatures, thunderstorms, blindly navigate through pitch black nights and surf huge tumbling waves. One of these waves submerged half of my deck but I managed to right myself in time. It’s difficult to hit every wave at the perfect angle, especially when they sometimes come at you from all directions.

I’ve had to find out about El Niño, the doldrums, the equator, atolls, archipelagos and now the Great Barrier Reef. This largest living structure on the planet stretching 2,300km, will be the final challenge for all of us before reaching our destination. Now more than ever is when we all need to remain completely focused. I’m confident in our ability and still carry all the blessings I received by kind people in Hawaii and Samoa. I feel their positive energy and others willing us safely to land.

It’s been a long and arduous 9 months and I’m feeling a little worse for wear. My hatches are getting emptier and hatch handles stiffer. I’ve lost weight and all my sponsor stickers are peeling off my oars and side. My bottom is covered in barnacles and the rest of my body squeaks and groans from time to time. No matter what, though, I’ll keep on going and with the help of my girls I’ll always have a smile on my face.

Through it all I’ve had great company and made some really special friends. The Mahi Mahi have been consistently by our side and always glide under and around me. Flying fish soar along side me and jump over and onto my deck. At different times during our voyage dolphins, whales and shoals of fish have escorted us and I’ve made good friends with two sharks, Fernando and Eduardo. They’ve been keeping their beady eyes on us as they know that there is always food near by and they are intrigued by our adventure.

The birds, especially the boobies, love soaring around me and they are fascinated by all of us. They glance inquisitively as they do a low fly-by and very often have chosen my aft or fore-cabin roof to spend the night. They are welcome visitors except for when they make a mess all over my solar panels!

I can’t wait to see the faces of my girls and their families when we reach land successfully and I hope that I can push them in the right direction as quickly as I know they want to go. I’m not going to lie though, there is a part of me that feels sad that our time out here is nearly over. I still feel like this incredible ocean is a place where I belong. I’ve enjoyed her beauty and her power and will take these memories with me forever, wherever it is that I end up.
Doris x

UPDATE:
Today was an exciting day as LP delved into one of the Henderson hatches and found not one but FIVE bags full of chocolate. That combined with the extra hot chocolate, mug shots (cup a soup) and biscuits means that we’re probably going to arrive into Cairns on a sugar high!! x

Leg 3, Day 57 – Losing Sight Of Shore

By The Team

On 5 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 57 – Losing Sight of Shore by Sarah Moshman

What does it mean to lose sight of shore? To me, it means pushing yourself far enough outside your comfort zone that you can no longer see the person you once were, and you are fighting to make it to the other side where you will be the person you’ve always wanted to become. Although I’m not physically on Doris (many days I wish I was), my journey to make a documentary about The Coxless Crew and to be a filmmaker has a lot of similarities.

It was late January 2015 when I got a life-changing email from Fiona Tatton, a blogger in the UK asking me if I’d like to be introduced to the Coxless Crew who were a few months from starting the row. I knew Fiona because she had interviewed me about my first feature-length documentary The Empowerment Project: Ordinary Women Doing Extraordinary Things that follows the journey of five female filmmakers driving across the US to interview inspirational women from all walks of life. Naturally, Fiona thought the Coxless Crew’s story was right up my alley. I specifically remember reading that email and thinking: “Rowing the Pacific? Wow. But I have no interest in making a film about that.” I then set up a Skype with Nat and Laura with no expectations, and I was instantly inspired. I’ve always trusted my instincts when it comes to which projects to focus on, and this was no different. Although I had no knowledge or interest in rowing, it was so clear to me that this was a story about the power of the human spirit, which was so exciting.​

How do you make a film? Where do you even begin? The fact is, you just start taking a few steps forward and see where they get you. Then you take a couple more steps even when it feels scary, and before long you’re doing it. You’re brainstorming, planning, shooting, editing, and the shore is no longer in sight. I certainly don’t have it all planned out when I begin, and how could I? This is real life. These women are rowing the Pacific and I have no idea how it’s going to turn out. All I knew was that I believed in them, I believed in my ability to pull it off, and the rest would somehow fall into place. That blind and bold determination is something I certainly share with Natalia, Laura, Emma, Lizanne, Izzy and Meg.

Before the ladies left San Francisco I armed them with cameras, microphones and hard drives and did my best to teach them how to use the tools to tell their story. I told them to think of the lens as all the people they want to inspire. I reassured them that everything they are thinking and feeling is important and fascinating. It was a big leap of faith to leave the storytelling to them, but an experiment I desperately wanted to conduct.

I have had the pleasure of meeting the crew on land at each stop to film their triumphant arrivals in Santa Barbara, Honolulu, Samoa and soon Cairns. I’ve been present for the first steps, first bites of steak and ice cream, first showers, and always-huge smiles and hugs proud of what they’ve achieved. I feel so lucky and honored to have this front row seat to such an extraordinary story. I watch the footage from the boat giddy because I have no idea what’s coming next. I sit at my computer laughing at their goofy moments, frightened when they see sharks and whales, and crying when they feel lonely or in pain. And although we may be from different countries, I am convinced that this is a universal story of bravery, courage, determination and friendship.

When the Coxless Crew reach Cairns very soon and finish their journey, mine is really just beginning. Once I have all of the footage from boat, and I have conducted all of the interviews it’s time to officially begin post-production on Losing Sight of Shore. I have been diligently logging and transcribing all of the footage as it comes in, so that I stay organized and can move forward efficiently. From there it will be about shaping the story. Documentary filmmaking is kind of like reverse engineering a narrative. In fictional narrative films you have a script and then you shoot the movie. In documentary, you shoot the movie and then you write the script. It’s an interesting process for me, because in many ways I can’t start editing this film until I know how it ends.

I hope to have a rough cut of the film by the Spring of 2016, and then once that major hurdle has been crossed the film will really take shape and eventually become the final cut of the film. Simultaneously we will be working on sound editing, color correcting, music composing, titles, graphics, marketing, distribution, and more. My goal is to have the film complete by the Fall of 2016. My ideal home for this film is on Netflix or HBO but all of that will be sorted out once the film is further along. I still have a considerable amount of money to raise and many hours of footage to sift through before I can really dream big about where it will end up. My main focus is to make a great film that honors the tireless hard work of The Coxless Crew so that people for years to come can be inspired. I often begin editing thinking about how I want the audience to feel when they leave the theater – and for this film I want them to feel like they can achieve anything they set their mind to.

I am currently in the middle of My Pacific in terms of making this film, but just like The Coxless Crew I believe in the process, and I approach it shift by shift, stroke by stroke. I lost sight of shore a long time ago and in my dreams I can see to the other side, and oh boy was it worth the trip.

Stay tuned for updates about Losing Sight of Shore on our facebook page

Watch the trailer:

UPDATE: We’re battling a strong Southerly current. 550 miles to go. 12 days of main meals. So near yet so far x

Leg 3, Day 56 – DIY

By Emma Mitchell

On 4 Jan 2016 in At Sea

Day 56 – DIY

I have learned lots of new skills since becoming involved in the Coxless Crew project both in the journey to the start line and the journey across the ocean. One of my favourite learning curves has been my DIY apprenticeship with Uncle Tone. Before we reach each stopover I make a list of the maintenance jobs which need doing which aren’t so easy to do whilst riding the waves. When, in leg one we had to return to land after 16 days to fix our electronics we also had a long list of maintenance jobs which we had compiled while getting used to life on Doris. These weren’t things which affected the integrity or safety of the boat but which would make things more efficient, easier or tidier on board. For example we fitted bungee between the pockets in the aft cabin for extra storage and a new cover for our vents in the fore cabin to stop leaking when big waves flood the deck. Now when I say we did this, what I actually mean is that Tony worked and I assisted and learned. I have come to realise that almost anything can be fixed with epoxy putty, that araldite will glue anything and that I love taking things apart and putting them back together again better than before. On land we have modified the seat setup, shortened the oars, installed storage in the aft cabin roof, fixed leaks, installed fans and replaced various items. I can now be trusted to wield the electric drill, saw and marine sealant unsupervised. I have also learnt a lot about electronics, solar panels, boat setup and how Doris was put together through the different maintenance jobs we have needed to do since we left San Francisco.

DIY has become one of my roles on Doris while out at sea as well as on land, probably because things that squeak, rattle, flap, grate and creak annoy me before they annoy anyone else. Now when anything breaks I am the first port of call for the girls. The DIY jobs on Doris are ongoing while we are out on the water and mainly involve WD40, gorilla tape (I don’t believe you can have too much of this stuff on board, Tony thinks that three rolls is too much!), and our trusty screwdrivers and spanners. The salt water makes things rusty and squeaky and the different rowing fittings loosen over time. Recently I’ve had to tighten the rowing riggers, fix the oar collars, clean and lubricate the seat bearings and WD40 the wind vane and go pro camera fittings, regularly tighten the grab rails and adjust the hatch handles. I love the satisfaction of a job well done and am looking forward to taking my new found DIY skills and the drill back home and getting started on some new projects.

UPDATE: Last night was probably the most beautiful of this leg so far. When Megs and I came out onto the oars for our first night shift it was pitch black, the inky darkness enveloping us, the ocean silent around us. As we pulled our oars through the water the sparkle of phosphorescence glittered. Over the two hours the clouds slowly thinned and then dispersed leaving a sky filled with thousands of bright stars which were reflected all around us in the mirror flat water of the mighty Pacific. We then heard some splashing along the side of the boat and I thought I saw a fin. It disappeared but about 10 minutes later a fin glided up alongside us and we saw a huge shark swimming beside Doris. It was Eduardo, back with us after heading home to spend Christmas and new year with his family! He came back a few times through the shift and then again to visit Nats when she came out to row. Our second night shift started with the same magical star filled sky, followed after an hour by the moon glowing red on the horizon. As it rose up a shining path reflected on the water lighting the way to Cairns. We wished on a couple of shooting stars and felt incredibly lucky to be experiencing what few people will ever see. Our final night shift found clouds gathering on the horizon and as dawn began, the sky lit up a bright orange. As it faded away we thought the show was over but as the sun peeked over the horizon the sky glowed once again before giving way to a clear blue sky and sunshine as day 56 began.

Day 3, Leg 55 – Performance v Enjoyment

By Laura Penhaul

On 3 Jan 2016 in At Sea

It’s the debate of doing a ‘Cracknell versus Fogle’; James Cracknell being an Olympic gold medallist in rowing and renown for pushing his body to the extreme, often passing out before giving up, compared to Ben Fogle, a tv presenter with no competitive history to date. If anyone saw the Atlantic Row race where these pair were in the competition together, they had a documentary filmed and aired on BBC called ‘Hell and High Water’. The underlying message that came from their row was how as a team you need to be aligned in what your aim is. For Fogle, his aim was getting from A to B and just finishing the race. For Cracknell, it was getting from A to B the fastest, and, with performance in his blood, winning the race was his motivation. So, although the pair had the same end goal of reaching Antigua, their thoughts on how they got there were very different. This led to numerous disagreements on the boat and for Cracknell a great deal of frustration, for Fogle a real hardship and negative journey, never feeling he could do enough. However, the interviews post row show how actually the diversity between the pair brought them together; Cracknell said that he grew absolute upmost respect for Fogle for his unrelenting contribution and he wouldn’t have rowed with anyone else as he taught Cracknell how to enjoy the journey. Fogle too reported that without Cracknell they would have never made it to Antigua and he had taught him so much about stepping outside his comfort zone to see what the body can really do. The pair have gone on to do a number of further expeditions together and I don’t know if it was a myth, but word on the street was that Cracknell was best man at Fogle’s wedding, so although there were disagreements, their relationship grew rather than suffered. A perfect example of how opposites can actually work together.

So why do I reminisce about this story…. well right now we are approximately 650nm away from Cairns, which if we can keep 50nm days, means we’re just 14 days away from our arrival and this is pretty convenient seeing as the food audit yesterday highlighted we only have 14 days worth of main meals left. So, I come to find myself in a ‘Cracknell’ headspace. Without a doubt I have enjoyed this journey, thanks largely to the influence of my team mates, but it’s no secret that I am ready to step off Doris as the typical feeling of the finish line being in sight but yet still so far away. Yet I know half the team are more in a ‘Fogle’ headspace and, rightly so, have highlighted how they wish to enjoy these lasting 2/3weeks aboard Doris. So, with now an added time pressure of our food running out, our parents all having booked flights with return flight dates cutting it fine for our arrival, combined with us having no wind and little current to assist us, if we don’t step up our performance then we won’t be arriving in 2 weeks. If we make the next two weeks about performance only, it’ll make our last two weeks on Doris hell and those less used to being in a performance environment with pressure will really struggle mentally and potentially ruin this whole experience. However, if we focus solely on enjoying the journey and pretty much going with the flow, then we’ll never get there before the end of January or even February at this rate! So, I ask myself, how can we collaborate a Cracknell and Fogle approach so that we are all facing the same direction together?

I brought the team together for a quick pow wow today to see where we all were in our expectations and thoughts about finishing. I used the tool of the 7 hats that Keith our Psych had introduced to us; blue hat first to state the facts i.e. 14 days of main meals, 50nm p/day needed to arrive in 14 days, black and white hats to state my opinions both positive and negative on the situation I.e. Our end goal is the same but the path we’re taking is maybe different within the team, red and yellow hats to highlight my emotions around the subject I.e. Feelings of frustration and then the green hat, ideas as to how we can overcome the differences and realign. Then there was a chance for each crew member to voice their own opinions/ emotions/ ideas. Collectively we agreed that we need to step it up but not so much that we loose the enjoyment of it, so plan of action is to state at the beginning of the shift with our row partner, as to how the shift should look like i.e. row hard for an hour and then steady for 45 mins. Ems too is going to give each of us more row tips to aid in efficiency of our rowing technique where we may have got complacent. We’re also going to tighten up on our handovers on the oars to minimise time loss between shifts. Small things that soon add up but are simple to change, all whilst ensuring we keep some enjoyment in our music shifts and Megs also is going to look into rewards for days that pass rather than just mileage. So fundamentally we’re collaborating the two approaches so we are all on the same page/same boat and going in the right direction together.

This row has always been about the journey, more of a ‘Fogle’ approach, it was specifically not part of a competitive race such as that of the Atlantic for that very reason. Coming from someone who can be slightly competitive and serious about training, being part of a race would have had very different aims and certainly would have brought my ‘Cracknell’ side out a lot earlier! With this row we have had goals to still meet but agreed on the flexibility of being able to enjoy the wildlife that we have encountered, added in socials as a team in the middle of the Pacific, enjoyed swims etc. so that we remain socially cohesive as a team and without a doubt I wouldn’t ever have changed our approach to this journey. Given the conditions, the set backs and delays that we’ve faced, if we were a team that were serious all the time and focussed purely on the numbers, I believe we wouldn’t be here today and if we were, we certainly wouldn’t be here with smiles on our faces, having enjoyed the ups and downs and I very much doubt we would be stepping off the boat as lifelong friends. Within the diversity of the team, without realising it, there has always been a reasonable balance of Cracknell v. Fogle outlooks and opinions. No different to before, this team will pull together and dig deep when needed and laugh throughout the whole process. This row has shown us how performance and enjoyment can coexist, but maybe ask yourself whether you need a little more Cracknell or Fogle in your life to give you the motivation or the enjoyment you need to succeed.

Update:
Today has been a scorcher! I think my body has got out of the habit of dealing with pan flat conditions, still air and stifling heat, because at midday today, rowing was torture! That being said it is bitter sweet, beautiful scenery and no salty splashes, but that also means no prevailing winds or currents to push us along to Cairns, so back to snail pace for a day. doh! X