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Friday 8th April 2005
Freeing us from the eddy took until this afternoon. An hour of rowing last night showed that there was nothing I could do until morning, so I began rowing west at 0600 today, with a maximum speed of 0.9 knots. The speed crept agonisingly slowly until quite suddenly at 1630, it went from 1.8 knots to over 3 knots, and eventually 3.4 knots, a record for the trip so far. No more of those, thank you.
The World Service has been loud and clear today, did someone have a word on my behalf?
Court martial convened
Court convened for an appeal. Call Captain James Little.
Sir.
Well Captain, we are in an awkward position again.
Yes sir.
Do you wish to appeal against your sentence?
Sir, I believe I was in possession of unsound advice when I entered a plea of guilty.
But as your defence counsel, I gave you that advice.
Quite so sir, but I believe you may have been as tired as I was.
So you wish to change your plea to what?
Not guilty, sir.
Very well, explain yourself.
Sir, when I discovered the rope it was in the water on the starboard side of the ship.
Yes.
Well sir, when I carried out deck rounds the evening before, I would not necessarily look over into the water for anything as part of my rounds, I would be looking only for things not present on deck.
Yes.
That night was to turn out to be a rough one, and it is entirely possible or even probable that the rope was in it’s correct position when rounds were carried out, and was cast over during the night. But as this was a correct item, and not an incorrect one, it would not have made an impact on my tired consciousness. That, I submit, makes my conviction unsound.
Yes, I see, do you wish to call any witnesses?
There are no possible witnesses sir, which I believe reinforces my case.
CCTV coverage?
No sir.
Very well, I’ve heard enough Captain and I’m of the opinion that your conviction is not safe and your appeal is allowed.
Thank you sir.
Afterwards
Well done Captain, that cleared up nicely. Aren’t you due for promotion soon?
Yes sir.
Oh I should think that you would have something in the post soon.
Drink, sir?
Well just a quick one.
Phew I’m glad that’s over.
Happy weekend everyone.
Thanks again Frazer.
One click. To Antigua 1209nm.
Saturday 9th April 2005
This morning I began rowing at 0615 and realised immediately that we were enjoying the assistance of the current. It seems quite rare for the wind and current to line up exactly with the direction we wish to row. The effect is dramatic. Normally I would have to put considerable effort in to get the boat over 2.5 knots, today we were travelling at 3.4 knots for at least two hours with very little effort.
During the day that speed dropped slowly off as the current meandered off to meet it’s pal somewhere, but it was very welcome and can come by to visit anytime.
The BBC World Service was completely impossible to find today, I wonder what goes on there. That’s one day of clear reception in 78 days. Maybe they put an extra shilling in the meter for the Pope’s funeral yesterday and the number crunchers have shut them down for the day.
Present forecast for arrival in Antigua, everything permitting, fingers crossed, is the middle of May. To achieve this I need to row 33nm per day. It is possible, but very much subject to lots of variables, so please do not rely on this as a forecast. I will be unable to pin my arrival date down with any accuracy at all until Antigua is practically in sight.
Three gas cylinders to go, they last twelve days normal usage, that gives me gas until 6th May, but without hot drinks it might last all the way. Exciting, isn’t it?
Thank you for your messages Jeff, and thank you for getting the diary entries to Aunties Brenda, Glad and Louey. Please give them all my love. No sign of the teapot lid.
Jacky, the clicks are how many times it takes me to light the gas cooker. I was going to drop the feature but can you believe… someone is having a sweepstake on it?
Wendy, no I’m not building muscles, just getting skinnier.
One click. To Antigua 1169nm.
Sunday 10th April 2005
Happy birthday Sheila.
My steward knocked gently on the headboard this morning as he brought my coffee. "Will you be rowing today, sir?" * As I replied in the affirmative the boat started moving at 1 knot. When I rose and left the cabin half a knot was added to our speed.
As I sat on the rowing seat another half knot. Picking up the oars and dipping them gently into the ocean another half knot, and moving the oars oh so gently took our speed up to 3 knots. As the sun rose our speed crept up and steadied at 3.4 knots, where it remained all day. We seem to get on so well, I do hope the current becomes a regular visitor.
A ship appeared on the horizon today, a container carrier of some size. No reply on VHF radio and he was gone. It was my intention to warn him about our bow wave. The sea-me chirped merrily for a while last night, but I saw nothing when I checked.
Flapjack for breakfast today, lunch was pork casserole and dinner smoky bacon, mash and peas and then wild berry yogurt for pudding. Who could ask for more? Is there a technical term for someone who talks to themselves? If there is, I have joined their ranks. This afternoon I realised that I was announcing the plans of the next couple of hours aloud, as if to a crew. The sooner we get to Antigua, the better.
Tonight’s bulletin is dedicated to our wonderful bar manager Sheila, who is celebrating her birthday today.
One click. To Antigua 1119nm.
*Before the text messages start coming in, I do not have a steward. I’m rowing solo, on my own, by myself and have no one with me. I make a joke.
Monday 11th April 2005
Happy birthday Amanda at the Woods End, 40 today.
Whizzing along all day at 3 knots again. An exhilarating row and a few more miles under the belt. The current has taken on a north westerly set about 1.75 knots. Thirty miles of that are useful, but we need to head west only after that please.
The Dorado have not had a mention for a while. Any flying fish which land on deck during the night are collected and donated to the first fish to realize that I’m offering them. Today it was the turn of the biggest of them, a Leviathan at 1.5 metres long and weighing probably as much as me. He made his approach to the handful of fish and then turned away and left them to be scoffed by one of the others. How did he get that big? The squadron currently number about fifty and make an eerie sight when swimming beside the boat in the dark. They look silver when the moon is up. During the day they dine on flying fish and are exceedingly fierce predators. In the evening they all return to the boat and act as loyal escort. A successful catch is an impressive sight. They can leap twenty feet out of the water and often do it seemingly for fun.
The rice puddings ran out yesterday, the dried apricots and dates will be next. No matter, we shall have less than 1000 miles to go in a couple of days and as the miles disappear into our wake such luxuries will become irrelevant.
Thank you all for your continued messages and greetings. Ben, your message did get through first time.
No clicks yet. To Antigua 1072nm.
Tuesday 12th April 2005
Great conditions again today, a little bouncy here and there, but good miles and not too hot with fifty per cent cloud cover. A twelve hour shift today yielded 36 miles, and the boat is currently (pun intended) heading west at 1.9 knots!
Our next event is the passing of the 1000 miles to go mark, which will be tomorrow morning. A lime cheesecake to celebrate, I think.
On board my next small event is a turning round of the chart. My Atlantic chart was too big for the cabin, so I cut out the section containing the journey and folded it in half so that it would fit into a waterproof wallet. The wallet is opaque on one side, so in 2 or 3 days I will have to take it out and lo, there we shall see Antigua. Small things can appear big out here.
Radio Norfolk called this morning for a chat, I hope you all got up early to tune in the wireless. The pace of conversation took me a bit by surprise, it all seemed very quick and I wonder if I’ve slowed down or whether I was just a bit yawny. The latter I hope, I was slow enough to begin with.
Seven clicks. To Antigua 1019nm.
Wednesday 13th April 2005
Hot, hot, hot today, very little cloud cover and I got a roasting. Summer is coming in these latitudes and over the next four weeks I will probably have to spend more time rowing at night and sheltering during the day. Quite a few miles today I expect, the current has not been in line with the wind, which has been strong.
My routine has evolved as the trip has progressed, it is mostly to do with the time zone change, but the net effect is that my rowing day has extended from 10 hours at first to 15 hours now. More than 15 hours would affect the quality of work, so the last few weeks will not change further. As expected, we crossed the 1000 miles to go line at 0730 this morning, and we have just passed 45 degrees west. The next milestone is two thirds of the way there in a couple of days.
Guy Arnott asks me if I’ve come across any big debris such as floating containers, and he informs me that there are over 250,000 of the things out here somewhere. Guy, no I haven’t, but early on I did go through an area of concentrated debris which could have come from a ship wreck. There is a website run by someone called Ebbsmeyer, which deals with this stuff, I’ll try to get the address for you.
Tonight’s bulletin is dedicated to Colin and Marje at the Fat Cat real ale emporium in Norwich. They’re project sponsors for which I am deeply grateful and they’re raising funds for the Davenport Trust while I am rowing.
Four clicks. To Antigua 965nm.
Thursday 14th April 2005
This morning I confidently mounted the rowing seat, made myself comfortable, unclipped the oars and boldly ordered “Warp Factor 4 Mr Sulu”. Mr Sulu pressed some buttons and immediately Scottie’s voice pipes up “We got no Warp drive captain, the diluthium crystals have had it”. So we had only impulse drive and only factor 5 at that. The current has vanished, and the sea is a confused mess so we can make only 2.3 knots. Just as I finished rowing tonight I thought the current might be returning but the morning will tell. If it has gone for good I shall miss it, the feeling of skimming the tops of the waves with the GPS reading 4 knots is one that will stay with me. Today though, back to the troughs in the sea and steady effort. The wind and sea have become very lively tonight so I expect very little sleep.
During today we had a spot of rain, but we passed close by a thundery looking storm cell which reminded me of a similar event earlier in the trip. It made me wonder what happens to the boat if lightning decides to stop by. On board we have a copy of The Atlantic Crossing Guide by Gavin McLaren and Ann Hammick ISBN 0-7136-6075-9. It is an excellent book with good quality information and masses of useful facts. Here is what it says about lightning: “The effects of a lightning strike are likely to be severe. There is a distinct possibility of structural damage – aluminium mastheads can be melted or split, and if the charge leaves through a skin fitting it may be destroyed. If it exits via an encapsulated keel, then a section of the GRP may be blown off. It is likely that most of the electronic equipment on board will be destroyed, whether on ship’s power or on batteries, and whether in use at the time or isolated. The damage may be obvious – in some cases instruments will virtually explode or be blown from their mountings….”.
It goes on to say that the vessel should have a full survey as soon as possible and that the engine and gearbox may also be damaged. It says that even the astronavigators digital watch will be destroyed. That should wipe away any smugness. “Surprisingly, injuries to the crew are rare.” That’s the bit I like, but what about those carbon fibre oars?
Two clicks. To Antigua 927nm.
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