Sunday 19th July- Day 24
- dawnysmiff
- Jul 19
- 3 min read
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.
Not long after the sun disappeared below the horizon, the slender crescent moon followed it, setting directly behind the stern of the boat.
It's actually quite unusual for us to watch sunsets like this.
Most of my ocean rows have been in the opposite direction, so it's normally the sunrise that steals the show. This crossing is giving us a completely different view of the Atlantic.
As darkness fell, I was hoping for one of those spectacular nights where every star seems to fill the sky.
For a little while, I got my wish.
The Plough appeared, pointing its way towards the North Star.
A little interesting fact for you... despite its importance to navigators for centuries, the North Star isn't actually the brightest star in the night sky. That honour belongs to Sirius.
If you're a Harry Potter fan, you might recognise the name. Quite a few of J.K. Rowling's characters were named after stars, including Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix is one of the bright stars in the constellation Orion, although at this time of year Orion itself isn't fully visible from where we are.
Sadly, it didn't last.
The cloud slowly rolled back in until, one by one, the stars disappeared again, leaving us rowing through another pitch-black Atlantic night.
The miles are still ticking away...
...just very slowly.
I can't help comparing this crossing with some of my previous ocean rows, where a good day might see us cover more than 70 nautical miles with a lovely following breeze.
This has been the complete opposite.
For well over a week now we've had little more than headwinds.
It's exhausting.
Not just physically, but mentally too.
If this were a coastal expedition where we could simply pull into a harbour or stop for the night, I'm honestly not sure I'd still be pushing as hard.
Out here, though, there isn't really that option.
The closest thing we have is the parachute anchor, and although the rest is welcome, the lack of progress means we only use it when we really have no choice.
Otherwise...
We keep rowing.
Thinking about land actually brings a smile to my face.
I'm really looking forward to the final part of this crossing, when we're close enough to the coastline to row along it. Dropping the anchor in a sheltered bay, making a morning coffee on deck and watching the sun come up over the land sounds absolutely perfect.
Those are some of my favourite memories from all my UK training rows and expeditions.
Quiet mornings.
Calm water.
Nature waking up around you.
It reminds me of home, where Stew and I often sit out on the deck with a coffee, watching the birds on the feeder before the day gets going.
The sky isn't completely clear at the moment, but it does look as though the sun might make another appearance later today.
Here's hoping.
Right...
Time to get back on the oars and slog out a few more hours.
---
Dawn
“Together Paul and I are rowing home — the long way round.”
Hometown Row
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