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

It was a bumpy start to the day. The wind continued to howl through the morning and the rain seemed to be falling straight from the heavens until about 11am. We stayed on the parachute anchor because there was simply no way we could have achieved the course we wanted in those conditions. Then, almost as if someone flicked a switch, everything began to ease. The rain stopped. The wind dropped. It was finally time to haul the parachute anchor back on board. Hopefully… …for the

This is a picture of Bert! He has rowed every ocean with me! Keeping me company on parachute anchor! As I write this, we’re back on the parachute anchor, waiting for the wind to do what the forecast promises and finally shift in our favour. It should happen within the next couple of hours. Fingers crossed. If all goes to plan, this might just be the last time we deploy the parachute anchor for a while. The longer-range forecasts are finally looking much more encouraging, with

Making the Most of the Wait We slogged hard all morning, trying to make our target course of 70°. Unfortunately, the wind had other ideas . No matter what we tried—shifting our weight around the boat to alter the trim or adjusting the daggerboard—we simply couldn’t point that high into the wind. The best we could consistently achieve was around 40°, and even that took a lot of effort. By lunchtime the wind and swell had built even further. The boat was being knocked around so

The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Done I honestly don’t know how much longer this pace is sustainable. Day after day we’re rowing into the wind, fighting to hold some kind of useful course and stay on our planned route. It’s physically exhausting, but if anything it’s even more mentally draining. I’ve rowed a lot of oceans. I’ve had storms, equipment failures, sleep deprivation and long periods of isolation. But I can genuinely say… This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. After e

It's been another tough 24 hours battling against the wind. The wildlife has been pretty quiet too. Apart from the occasional seabird passing overhead, the Atlantic has kept its secrets to itself. One thing that did make an appearance, though, was the sun. It finally broke through the cloud late in the afternoon and, after so many grey days, it felt wonderful just to have a bit of warmth on our faces. You don't realise how much you miss sunshine until it's been gone for days.

We've now rowed 891 nautical miles in total. Just 32 nautical miles in the last 24 hours, which doesn't sound like much... ...until you know what those 24 hours looked like. They were epic. As seems to have become the norm recently, we spent most of the day rowing into a headwind. It was certainly strong enough that we could easily have convinced ourselves to deploy the parachute anchor yet again. It would have been the easier option. But not this time. When the going gets to

The Past 24 Hours We managed to stay on the oars until about 6pm yesterday before the Atlantic made the decision for us once again. Back onto the parachute anchor we went. The wind had swung directly onto the nose of the boat. In theory that might sound manageable, but in reality Penny B doesn’t like sitting perfectly head to wind. She naturally wants to fall slightly off to one side, so the heading wanders all over the place. That makes life very difficult for the autopilot.

Today marks three weeks at sea. In some ways it feels like we've been out here forever. The days seem to merge into one another, each made up of rowing, sleeping, eating and checking the weather. Yet in other ways it's flying by. It's strange how time behaves in the middle of the Atlantic. The greyness continues. Paul is now convinced he won't see the sun again until he gets back to Florida! I've made him a promise that there'll be glorious sunshine waiting for him in the UK,

We're back on the parachute anchor. Yesterday actually gave us a glimpse of what this crossing can be like when everything comes together. From around 9am we had some fantastic rowing conditions. The boat was moving well, our speed was good and, most importantly, we were making progress in exactly the direction we wanted to go. Every mile ticked off felt like a real achievement. Despite the seemingly endless grey skies, damp clothing and blustery weather, we were genuinely en

Another twenty-odd hours of slog... But finally, a little bit of good news! Since about 3am, the wind has actually been behind us. Yee haa! It's not forecast to last very long, but we'll happily take every minute of it while it's here. After so many days battling headwinds, feeling the boat being gently pushed in the right direction again has given us both a real lift. The the previous 18hrs, however, was exactly the opposite. We spent hour after hour rowing into a headwind t

Well… what a 24 hours it has been. We hauled the parachute anchor back on board at 6am yesterday morning and got straight back on the oars. The forecast suggested the headwind would ease much earlier than it actually did, so we set off expecting things to improve fairly quickly. They didn’t. Instead, we spent most of the day rowing into a surprisingly strong headwind. The wind direction stubbornly stayed in the south-east for virtually the entire 24 hours, making every mile h

Twenty-four hours on the parachute anchor! Well… it’s probably not quite the relaxing break you’re all imagining! Being bounced around inside a tiny rowing boat cabin isn’t exactly rest and relaxation. Every wave rolls the boat from side to side, and every creak and groan reminds you that you’re sitting in the middle of the North Atlantic attached to a giant underwater parachute. At least, as a pair, we each have our own cabin. I’ve spent time on the para anchor with bigger c

Yesterday marked another little celebration on board... Pineapple Friday! If you've followed my previous ocean rows, you'll know this has become a bit of a tradition. Every Friday we crack open a small tin of pineapple. It's amazing how something so simple can become such a highlight when you're living on freeze-dried food. It might only last a few minutes, but for those few minutes we're eating something fresh, juicy and delicious. It certainly lifts morale. The good news is

Today marks two weeks since we slipped away from the Royal Newfoundland Yacht Club on a beautiful sunny morning. And, rather fittingly... The sun is finally back! The last 24 hours have been the clearest we've had for quite some time. Other than the familiar haze that seems to cling stubbornly to the horizon, we've enjoyed blue skies for most of the day. It was wonderful to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces again. After so many cold, damp days, it lifted our spirits eno

The Past 24 Hours Yesterday wasn’t quite the glorious sunny day we’d been hoping for, but it was a definite improvement. The sun never fully broke through the cloud, but there was enough light filtering through to keep our solar panels charging the batteries. After days of gloom, even that felt like a victory and gave us hope that brighter days are finally on the way. The conditions themselves were a bit of a mixed blessing. There was very little wind and hardly any current,

The Past 24 Hours The weather finally gave us a tiny glimpse of hope yesterday. We still didn't actually see the sun itself, but for the first time in what feels like forever there were patches of blue sky. It was amazing how much difference that little bit of colour made. The whole day felt brighter, even if the sun remained hidden behind the cloud. Perhaps the wildlife thought so too. A pod of dolphins arrived and spent around an hour swimming and playing around Penny B. Th

Another milestone reached! Yesterday we passed 500 nautical miles rowed, which is a real psychological boost. It means we're almost a quarter of the way home. Out here you quickly learn to celebrate the small milestones because they break the crossing down into manageable chunks. Instead of thinking about thousands of miles still to go, you focus on the next landmark, the next day and the next rowing shift. The conditions, however, continue to keep us on our toes. The grey sk