Thursday 18th December (Covering the last 24 hours)

The last day has given us some of the best conditions so far — 15–18 knots of wind, nicely in the right direction, and swell that was broadly playing the game too.

Out here, though, waves are never quite as simple as they are closer to land. Coastal waves are mostly wind-driven and fairly predictable. Ocean swell is a different beast altogether. It can be generated by weather systems hundreds — sometimes thousands — of miles away, old storms still sending energy across the sea long after the wind that created them has died. Add in pressure systems, shifting wind directions, and crossing swell trains, and you can end up with waves arriving from several directions at once.

Most of the time it’s manageable — until you hear one coming.

Every now and again you hear a rogue wave rumbling towards you before it arrives. It hits the side of the boat with no warning and absolutely drenches you. Paul got nailed by one during the night — it hit him so hard it catapulted him backwards and took his feet clean out of his shoes. Instant wake-up call!

🐦 Visitors from the Sky

During the day we had a few birds come to visit — small, swift-like birds flying incredibly low over the water, then suddenly swooping up in graceful arcs like an air display.

We found ourselves wondering where they go at night. Do they head back to land? Do they sleep on the water? The ocean always leaves you with more questions than answers.

☕ Sunset Rituals

Just before sunset, I stuck to my now-firm routine: coffee and soup.

I drink the coffee in the lead-up to my 7pm shift, chatting with Paul as the light fades. The soup gets saved for the short stops during my three-hour row — a little morale boost every hour that I look forward to far more than I probably should.

Then a banging tune came on…

A-ha — Take On Me.

Cue a bit of sunset karaoke before Paul disappeared below to sleep. Not exactly ocean-rower chic, but it did the job.

✨ Night Sky & Constellations

As I started my shift, the first constellation to greet me was Cassiopeia, unmistakable with its bold W-shape high in the sky.

Cassiopeia is named after a queen in Greek mythology, famed (and punished) for her vanity. Looking at her star pattern, I honestly wonder how anyone ever managed to turn these scattered dots into stories and pictures — but once you learn them, you never forget them.

The shift went well, although there was more wind and more rogue waves through the night, enough to keep you fully alert and on your toes.

🚢 An Unexpected Visitor

My shift finished at 10pm, and as Paul came up on deck to take over, I pointed out a light on the horizon behind us. I assumed it was another rowing boat, but said I’d check the AIS just to be sure.

Down in the cabin, the AIS showed a vessel with:

• a non-UK MMSI number

• no vessel name

• speed of around 8 knots

That was enough to warrant a call.

“Unidentified vessel, unidentified vessel, this is Penny B, over.”

The reply came back calmly:

“We are intending to overtake you on your starboard side.”

I responded:

“Unidentified vessel, this is Penny B — that’s no problem, sir. We just wanted to confirm you could see us, over.”

“Yes, we can see you and will pass you shortly.”

It was a bit odd that they didn’t identify themselves, but sure enough they passed safely by, disappeared into the darkness, and then slipped out of AIS range.

Nothing more happened overnight. It looks like we’ll have similar conditions for at least another 24 hours, so we’ll keep plodding on — stroke by stroke, mile by mile.

Right now, I’m off to make breakfast…

which will probably be something very un-breakfast-like.

Pasta Bolognese, most likely.

Dawn

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

Hometown Row

Leg 1 – La Gomera to Antigua

Leg 2 – Antigua to Florida

Leg 3 – Canada to the UK

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