Signs of Civilisation It really feels like we’re starting to come back into human civilisation now. After weeks where another vessel was an event in itself, suddenly there seems to be something going on around us all the time. Yesterday we even watched part of the RORC Round Britain and Ireland Race fleet pass to the north of us. RORC is the Royal Ocean Racing Club, and these boats are taking part in an 1,805 nautical mile non-stop race around Britain and Ireland, having left

Just 26 nautical miles in the past 24 hours. It is an absolute slog. I’m trying to think of the best way to explain what rowing in these conditions actually feels like. Imagine putting two heavy bags of concrete on the ground in front of you. Drag them forward two paces. Now take those two paces yourself. Stop. Drag the bags another two paces. Move forward. Then do it again. And again. And again… …for three hours. Then rest for three hours before getting up and doing exactly

We made the most of the last 24 hours, knowing it was probably our final chance of enjoying a following breeze until the end of the week. So we dug deep. We rowed hard and covered a solid 51 nautical miles, which is a decent chunk taken out of the remaining distance. Every mile feels more significant now. As I write this, we have 126 nautical miles to Land’s End and 433 nautical miles to Burnham-on-Crouch. Reaching shallow water will be a huge milestone for us, and not just b

Another painful 24 hours. If you looked only at our photos and videos, with the sun shining, blue skies and calm seas, you’d probably think we were on some wonderful rowing holiday. The reality couldn’t be more different. For around 12 hours we were barely making half a knot. It’s absolutely soul-destroying. Imagine giving absolutely everything you’ve got—every stroke, every ounce of energy—for a full three-hour shift, only to look at the chart afterwards and realise you’ve b

Yesterday’s pineapple Friday… The last 24 hours have been… Brutal. We’ve been battling headwinds and counter currents which, apart from slowing us right down, have also been pushing us further north than we’d like. It’s been one of those days where every stroke feels like hard work. You look at the chart after three hours on the oars hoping to see a satisfying jump towards home… …and instead wonder where all that effort has gone. Right now it’s hard. Very hard. The good news

It’s Pineapple Friday again! And, with just over 200 nautical miles to go until we reach the UK shoreline, this could well be our last Pineapple Friday in open ocean. Now that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be quite so excited about! The last 24 hours have been absolutely beautiful. Sunshine. Warmth. And finally… A chance to freshen up properly. I washed my hair for the first time in 43 days. I can’t tell you how good that felt! The sea was also so calm and inviting that P

It’s been a pleasant, although fairly slow, 24 hours. There’s very little wind now, so every mile has to be earned the hard way. It’s back to being a proper slog on the oars, but at least we’re making steady progress. Yesterday was beautifully sunny, which meant the final bits of kit that got soaked during the knockdown have finally dried out. It’s amazing how much of a difference dry clothes make to your mood. The dolphins seem to have become regular visitors now. They’re th

One of the broken oats from yesterday sponsored by Dave Lawrence. Apparently he still wants to keep it, The conditions remained pretty gnarly throughout the day, but with daylight everything felt much less daunting. After the excitement of the previous night’s knockdown, the strategy completely changed. It wasn’t about rowing as hard as possible. It was all about keeping the boat pointing in the right direction and preventing her from becoming weathercocked—where the wind cat

A Night to Remember Yesterday started quietly enough. The wind was barely a breath for much of the day, and we continued plugging away, making slow but steady progress. By the evening… …it was blowing an absolute hoolie. The sea transformed completely. Huge waves were rolling in, not only from the direction of the wind but also from the side, making the boat lurch unpredictably as we tried to keep her on course. Then, in the middle of the night, while Paul was on the oars, ev

The last of my chocolate stash! 🫣 The last 24 hours were spent mainly on the parachute anchor… …and it rained. A lot. In fact, I think even if the wind had been blowing in exactly the right direction, we’d probably still have chosen to stay tucked up in our nice warm cabins! We’re not racing, and we’re certainly not trying to prove how miserable we can make ourselves. Sometimes the sensible decision is simply to sit it out. So that’s exactly what we did. I watched a couple o

Yesterday morning started off tough. We had a light headwind and were making slow but definite progress. It certainly wasn’t fast, but every stroke was taking us a little closer to home. By midday, though, things had changed. No matter how hard we rowed, we simply couldn’t stop ourselves being pushed backwards. The forecast showed the wind continuing to build throughout the afternoon, so we made the sensible decision. Out came the parachute anchor. As we opened the locker, Pa

Last nights full moon I honestly can’t believe we’ve been at sea for so long. The days seem to merge into one another, yet somehow another month has arrived. It also means we’re another month closer to home. One of the nicest signs that we’re making progress is the change in birdlife. For weeks we’ve mainly seen the occasional ocean-going seabird, but now we’re starting to spot species that tell us land is slowly getting closer. Yesterday we saw our first gannets, unmistakabl

Image of a sunfish from my pacific crossing in 2023. Pineapple Friday… and a Chocolate Crisis It’s Pineapple Friday again! Hopefully we’ve only got a couple more Pineapple Fridays to spend out here in the open ocean before we reach the UK coastline and begin making our way along the south coast towards Burnham-on-Crouch. Now that really is something to look forward to. It’s been another pleasant 24 hours with plenty of sunshine. After everything we’ve battled over the past fe

The last 24 hours have been a little slower, but progress is progress. We covered 53 nautical miles, all in the right direction, so we’re certainly not complaining. In fact, it was a pretty pleasant day on the whole, with just a couple of scattered showers passing through. After everything the Atlantic has thrown at us recently, I’ll happily take “pleasant.” There were no wildlife visitors this time, but nature still put on a show. The full moon continued to dominate the nigh

What a difference 24 hours can make! After the relentless downpour finally eased at around 10am yesterday morning, the sun broke through the clouds and everything suddenly felt a lot more positive. I managed to wash and dry my clothes, my foul weather gear is finally dry again, and the famous bin bag underwear that so many of you now seem to want a pair of has been packed safely away! The conditions remained kind throughout the day. They certainly weren’t fast, but with a bit

The last 24 hours of rain have been absolutely horrendous. Out here you accept that you’re going to get wet from waves. The difference is that, normally, once the rain stops and the sun comes out, you’ve got at least a chance of drying off. This time there hasn’t been any escape. To make matters worse, my foul weather gear has finally started to give up. The seams have sprung a leak, so instead of keeping the rain out they’re now letting it seep straight through. I’ve already

Terry is back! I’d love to be able to tell you about an incredible wildlife encounter or some dramatic event at sea… But unfortunately, nothing much happened. We rowed. We got wet. And we saw… absolutely nothing. Some days on the Atlantic are like that. The rain started at around 3am this morning and hasn’t really stopped since. One small blessing over the past week has been that, even if a rogue wave completely soaked us, we’d usually get a chance to dry out during the day.

Cosy bed socks to remind me of home. Another good 24 hours. We covered 72 nautical miles, which we’re really pleased with. After weeks of battling headwinds and spending far too much time on the parachute anchor, it finally feels like we’re knocking the miles down and making proper progress towards home. Every good day like this gives us another little boost. The forecast over the next few days is still looking encouraging from a wind perspective, so hopefully we can keep thi

One month ago today we slipped the lines at the wonderful Royal Newfoundland Yacht Club and left behind all the comforts of land. Hot showers. Fresh food. A proper bed. It’s strange because it feels like a lifetime ago, yet at the same time it doesn’t seem possible that a whole month has passed. Life has become incredibly simple now. Row. Sleep. Eat. Repeat. And somehow… …it all feels completely normal. Paul and I were chatting about how we’ve both managed to cope mentally wi

Under the Milky Way It was a slow but thoroughly enjoyable day on the oars. There was very little wind, so we were having to work hard for every mile, but a small favourable current gave us just enough of a helping hand to keep us moving in the right direction. The sun stayed with us for most of the day too. There was a bit of cloud around, but after the endless grey weather we’ve had recently, it felt like a completely different ocean. Then came the sunset. It was one of tho