Wednesday 8th July - Day 14

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. They surfed the bow wave, darted underneath the boat and generally reminded us why we love being out here. It almost felt as though they had been waiting for the first hint of blue sky before deciding to come and say hello.

Maybe the wildlife only comes out when it's sunny!

Unfortunately, the day also brought one of our biggest setbacks so far.

We lost our Jetboil.

And it disappeared in spectacular fashion.

It was sitting securely in the stern rowing position while we were making a drink. Then a particularly big side wave hit the boat, knocking the oar out of its normal position. The oar handle swung round like a baseball bat, struck the Jetboil at full force, clipped Paul's head with a glancing blow and launched the whole thing straight into the Atlantic.

One second it was there...

The next it had vanished beneath the waves.

We were absolutely gutted.

Thankfully, we'd packed a spare. Unfortunately, it's nowhere near as good as the one we've just donated to the ocean. It's much harder to light and even harder to keep lit in the wind.

One thing we've really tried to do on this expedition is minimise our environmental impact, so losing any piece of equipment overboard is genuinely upsetting. It certainly wasn't intentional, and we'd much rather our faithful Jetboil was still making coffee on board than sitting somewhere on the seabed.

The night shift was brutal.

There was a decent amount of wind, which should have been great news, but it came with a horrible beam sea that constantly knocked us off balance and kept our speed frustratingly low.

My three-hour shift went something like this...

Row.

Huge wave over the top.

Spend the next half hour gradually drying out in the wind.

Just as I'm almost dry...

Another wave.

Repeat.

Then, just as it's time to hand over and climb back into the cabin...

The infamous Five Minute Wave arrives right on cue and soaks me from head to toe all over again.

I'm beginning to think it's not a coincidence!

Still, another day is behind us, the miles continue to tick by, and despite the challenges we're both still smiling.

After all, no one ever promised the North Atlantic would make life easy.

---

Dawn

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

Hometown Row

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