Saturday 25th July- Day 30

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 with being out here for so long. Neither of us thinks about how many miles are left or how many weeks remain.

We simply deal with one shift at a time.

Get through the next three hours.

Then the next rest.

Then the next meal.

Break an enormous challenge down into lots of small, manageable ones and suddenly it no longer feels impossible. It’s a lesson I’ve learnt on every ocean crossing and one that applies just as much back on land. Whether it’s an ocean, a marathon or simply getting through a difficult period in life, focusing on the next small step is often far more productive than worrying about the whole journey.

For a while, with all the headwinds, slow progress and time spent on the parachute anchor, I genuinely started wondering if we’d be out here forever, living in this strange little floating micro-world where every day looked exactly the same.

Thankfully…

The miles have started coming again.

We covered 78 nautical miles in the last 24 hours.

Now that’s more like it!

It certainly hasn’t come easily.

Every time we climb off the oars it feels as though we’ve been through ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. On more than one occasion I’ve been thrown completely out of my rowing seat by the waves.

It’s hard work.

Very hard work.

But when you look at the chart and see those miles disappearing behind you, every aching muscle suddenly seems worthwhile.

The weather, however, has returned to its usual setting.

Grey.

Grey sea.

Grey sky.

And just to stop us getting too comfortable…

…a little fog thrown in for good measure!

Yesterday was Pineapple Friday, one of our little traditions out here, so today’s breakfast was a bit less exotic…

Sweet and sour chicken!

Ocean rowing certainly has a way of making completely random meals seem perfectly normal.

The highlight of the day, apart from the mileage, was a pilot whale that came in for a closer look.

This time I managed to get my GoPro into the water before it disappeared.

Unfortunately, because the water out here has taken on that deep green colour, the footage mostly shows a shadow moving through the gloom rather than the whale itself. Near the Canadian coastline the water was beautifully clear, but out here it’s much richer in tiny plankton, which scatters the light and gives the ocean its greener appearance.

Still…

Seeing it was enough.

Not every wildlife encounter has to make it onto social media to be special.

Now it’s time for a quick nap before my next rowing shift starts at midday.

One month down.

One stroke at a time towards home.

Dawn

“Together Paul and I are rowing home — the long way round.”

Hometown Row

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