Surviving the Toughest Rowing Race on Earth
By the time hurricane Katrina had become Cat 5 in the South Atlantic in August 2005, a professional weather router had directed me towards the protective bubble, the Azores High – the high-pressure zone surrounding the Azores Islands in the North Atlantic Ocean. For ten days I sat alone on my boat without an engine, in the no-wind zone. I was heading home after the Faraday-Mill OSTAR single-handed transatlantic race. Up until then, I had charged across the Atlantic on various race boats. I had skimmed the surface. I could not have anticipated how that same ocean came to life when suddenly I was forced to stand still.
Back on dry land, I read the story of the original naked rower, New Zealander Rob Hamill who won the inaugural Atlantic Rowing Race and led successful defenses of the title in 2001 and 2003 with Kevin Biggar. As a professional sailor, I saw rowing across the Atlantic an opportunity for me to enjoy the ocean at a slower pace, while training physically and mentally for my next sailing ambition, the double-handed Barcelona World Race - a non-stop, sprint around the World from Barcelona to Barcelona in Open 60 sailing boats.
The Woodvale Atlantic Rowing Race leaves La Gomera in the Canary Islands for Antigua in the Caribbean, some 2,700 nautical miles stretching out in between. There are two classes in the Woodvale Atlantic Rowing Race – the pairs class in which there are two people per boat and the Open (solo) class. In the pairs class, the race aside, the second challenge is how to get along with your rowing partner, in confined space under emotionally and physically stressful circumstances!
The race normally starts in December with the permission of the Spanish authorities; however, this year it was postponed week by week until January 4th, due to a succession of adverse weather systems, which would have reduced the teams to seasickness and foundered many on the shores of Africa. It is not called the ‘toughest rowing race on earth’ for nothing.
To prepare for such a grueling regime of 24/7, three hour on – three hour rowing, I took up sport climbing and spent the summer of 2009 in Mallorca, Spain. I was fortunate to have a session with the Olympic national rowing coach of Denmark, in Copenhagen who made me aware that in order to avoid injury, I needed to strengthen the muscles around my ankles and wrists. Sport climbing did exactly that. To further cement my resolve, I set off from Mallorca at 3am, solo and unsupported by kayak, for Menorca some 36k to the North West. I wanted to know how it felt to be out of sight of land in a small boat in a big sea. After 16.5 hours of non-stop paddling, I thought I knew exactly what was in store!
My greatest fear before setting off was how the boat might behave in big seas. While the race itself has not suffered any loss of life, competitors in past years experienced huge wave trains that on occasion rolled the boat through 360 degrees. To overcome this fear, I made sure that my rowing partner and I procured the best safety gear available - Deck Pro harnesses by Spinlock.
Also, before securing the rescue EPIRB (Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacon) to the cabin exterior, I took the time to create a wrist handle for it out of line - I wanted to make sure that in the worst case scenario, if I had to dive down for the EPIRB, I would have it once and for all in my grasp!
Thankfully, there were no big seas this year. In fact there was barely any wind at all. The trade winds, which usually blow a consistent 15-20 knots from the East/North-East, were either non-existent or extremely light. As a result the race was one long hot slog! Finally on Thursday 18th March, after 73 days at sea, my rowing partner and I crossed the finish line south of Antigua in the Caribbean, to come ninth out of 30 boats, the second wooden boat in the top ten that was originally built from a home-made kit rather than professionally from glass/carbon fiber composites. New Zealand Company, ‘Expedition’ certainly helped here by sponsoring me with their navigation/routing software. It gave us a very competitive edge.
The race did exactly what I expected – it took me beyond what I thought were my own limits of physical and mental endurance. Having only met my rowing partner one month before the start of the race, our road to becoming a team was far from smooth. In the latter part of the race, I also suffered chronic tendonitis in my fingers and had to rely on high dose painkillers to get through each shift. Friction sores are a common rower’s plight and so recalling childhood holidays where my brother and I had lain naked in the sun to rid ourselves of ‘spotty botty,’ I quickly discovered that lying ‘sunny-side up,’ draped over the ADEC liferaft for 15 minutes every day soon fixed that particular problem!
On day 10, I blogged, “It was a beautiful thing! The oars stroked through the water freely, it was like rowing through silk.“ On day 21, “the sea was a rich navy blue with facets of silver-leaf. Then when the sun burst through, it was like switching on a light bulb! The navy blue turned aquamarine and the silver leaf was replaced by a shimmer.” I never got tired of the scenery. The intense and often enjoyable rowing, the incredible sea blues, the wildlife, the moonscapes, the trillions of brilliant white stars and the Milky Way – by far outweigh the minor miseries! I am even tempted to say I would do it again, but sailing is my passion and primary profession. My focus is firmly set on being on the starting line of the Barcelona World Race 2010.