Tuesday 11th August- Day 47

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 the same thing all over again.

Now imagine repeating that, day and night, for what will eventually be around three days.

That’s pretty much where we are right now.

It’s not for the faint-hearted, and the frustrating part is that there really isn’t another option. If we stop rowing, we don’t make any progress at all.

But there is a rather exciting number on the chart this morning.

100 nautical miles to land.

Exactly.

That feels like a massive milestone.

Once we reach the UK coastline, we’ll suddenly have a whole range of options that simply don’t exist out here.

Most importantly, we’ll be able to start working properly with the tides. Instead of grinding away regardless of what the water is doing, we can row when the tide is helping us and, when it turns against us, find somewhere suitable to drop our normal anchor and stay put.

No drifting backwards.

No wondering where we’ll end up.

And no sitting in deep water worrying about drifting into the path of another vessel.

Talking of vessels…

There are definitely a lot more of them now.

During daylight the fishing boats aren’t particularly noticeable because most are a couple of miles away.

At night, however, it’s completely different.

The darkness is scattered with navigation lights, fishing lights and the bright working lights of trawlers. After weeks where we could go days without seeing another vessel, it suddenly feels surprisingly busy.

Then, at around 11:30am yesterday, the AIS alarm sounded.

A fishing boat called Harvest Reaper II was heading towards us.

Initially I was slightly concerned they hadn’t seen us.

Then it became obvious…

They were deliberately coming over to investigate!

As they approached, the boat looked absolutely enormous.

We haven’t seen another vessel close up for around 43 days. Other than whales and dolphins, Penny B has been our entire world, so suddenly having a fishing boat alongside felt very strange.

The skipper called across and asked where we’d come from.

Paul replied:

“Canada!”

He laughed in complete disbelief.

Then came a very kind offer.

“Do you need anything?”

We’re hoping this crossing will qualify for the record as the first mixed pair to row the Atlantic west to east, and for that we need to remain unsupported, so unfortunately we had to politely decline.

Although I have to admit…

My first thought was:

I wonder if they’ve got chocolate?

Given the current chocolate crisis on Penny B, that required some serious willpower!

Then came another offer.

Fish?

That one was considerably easier to turn down.

No thank you!

They stayed nearby for a little while before heading off, but the whole encounter gave us about half an hour of entertainment and a very welcome distraction from dragging our imaginary concrete bags across the Atlantic.

Then it was back to work.

The forecast remains light and difficult for the next 48 hours, so we’re expecting several more shifts of exactly the same thing.

There is some encouragement on the horizon, though.

By Thursday we’re expecting some north-westerly winds.

They’re not particularly strong, but they’re coming from the right direction, and right now we’ll gratefully accept anything that gives Penny B a little nudge towards land.

So that’s the game plan.

Keep nudging forward.

It doesn’t matter how slowly.

Just…

Keep…

Moving.

The forecast for our journey along the south coast is actually looking pretty good at the moment, although we’ve been out here long enough to know how quickly that can change.

Interestingly, once we’re coastal, we won’t mind light winds nearly as much.

We’ll be able to use the tide as our engine.

If we can make around 2.5 knots with a favourable tide for roughly six hours, that’s potentially another 15 nautical miles towards home.

Then, when the tide turns against us…

Drop the anchor.

Eat.

Sleep.

Recover.

And wait for our next six-hour ride.

Compared with dragging two bags of concrete across the Atlantic…

That sounds almost luxurious!

100 nautical miles to land.

Come on Penny B.

We’re getting there.

Dawn

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

Hometown Row

📩 You can have Dawn’s blogs delivered directly to your inbox here:

👉 https://dawn2609.substack.com/

🌐 Or visit the website:

www.rowaurora.co.uk