Crossing the Atlantic

Crossing the Atlantic? In a rowing boat? Why wouldn’t you…

Scribe: Lt Col Mac McCarthy (Team Elijah’s Star)

‘Yes’. It’s an easy word to say. Rolls off the tongue, and is probably one of the most commonly used words, just behind ‘No’. And so, when friends, on a Zoom call during lockdown back in April 2020, asked me if I wanted to row across the Atlantic, it was easy to say ‘Yes’. I think I was still a little delirious coming off the back of a bout of CV19 but the question was asked, I looked at Julie, my long suffering far better half, who rolled her eyes as if to say ‘whatever’, and said ‘Yes’. But there are implications to saying ‘Yes’…

Now, with 6 weeks to go before departure (less by the time you read this), the implications of that one small word are looming large. Some quick facts Home! Lady Jayne – our Rannoch R45 Ocean Rowing Boat, two in the front and two in the back and figures about rowing the Atlantic… closest people? – international space station; nearest land? – about 5 think that this might be quite a social time with boats rowing together miles – straight down; more people have been into space than rowed for long periods, but the reality is you probably won’t see another sole any ocean; more people climb Everest every year; storms and 40-foot until arriving in Antigua. Within days, the fleet can be hundreds of miles waves; capsize (most boats go over at some point); salt sores and apart. blisters; hallucinations and fatigue; sea sickness and cramps; daily As to safety, we’re entirely self-sufficient carrying all our rations and calorie intake – 6.000kcal but regardless, average weight loss is 12kg. supplies and we rely totally on a solar powered water maker – mission We’ll row for two hours and then rest for two hours. And then row for critical equipment. We carry a comprehensive medical pack including two hours and rest for two hours, constantly. 24 hours a day. For about anti-biotics (I’m the medic) and we have satellite comms and a BGAN 6 weeks. for safety and social media. We have a GPS system that tells us where

We are a team of four, I’m serving, two ex-Army (one REME) and one we are and what might be near-by, an auto-helm for the rudder and of ex-Navy, and we’re going to sit down on our 28-foot Rannoch R45 course, a compass - just head West! We each carry a personal locator rowing boat on the 12 December 2021 and not get off until sometime beacon (PLB) at all times on a safety belt and we are always harnessed in mid to late January 2022. And none of us are rowers in any true to the boat – unless going over the side to clean the hull when we can sense. We’ll row 3.000 miles due west from La Gomera in the Canaries, be on a longer rope and then we conduct Shark Watch in the very real to the island of Antigua in the Caribbean and this will all take place sense of the phrase. We carry a fully equipped life raft and emergency under the banner of the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge. This is an food and water along with a hand-held water maker. The loo is a bucket annual race organised by Atlantic Campaigns and is simply described and, oh the luxury, it’s got a seat! There are two Atlantic Campaigns as ‘The World’s Toughest Row’. No arguments there. This year, there will safety yachts out there, somewhere, but if we get into trouble they can be nearly 40 boats – from solos (absolute nutters), through pairs, be 5 days away. The ability to maintain and repair the boat and its threes, fours and fives. There’s a staggered start in La Gomera with the systems is essential to a successful crossing. It really is about being selfsolos leaving first and 5 minutes between each departing boat. You’d sufficient.

For those that remember him, Phil Bigland is still scruffy. Have to admit though, the best fresh mackerel I’ve ever eaten ‘The Paddock’. 2020/21 start line, San Sebastian Harbour, La Gomera. Christopher Columbus sailed from here when he discovered the America by accident

Pickling the Schenker water maker – Mission Critical Kit! The front cabin. Known by the ‘back cabin boys’ (half the size) as the luxury en-suite

We’ve trained and prepared well. Of the 40 boats going, three have made the ‘no concerns’ list at the initial inspection with the Safety Officer, and we’re one of them. I won’t deny, the lessons learnt from military planning, preparation and execution have done us proud. As a team, we’ve logged around 200 hours of ocean rowing experience but I don’t think anything will truly prepare us for what the Atlantic will offer. It’s a question of being mentally prepared to face whatever comes and having confidence in the kit. That’s a definite read across to a military approach isn’t it? Physically, we’re all doing a lot of stretching and mobility work. It’s a walk, not a sprint, and much of the training has been focused around resilience and strength - a rowing stroke is effectively a squat followed by a deadlift and then a bit of biceps – oh, and we’ve learnt to row! The bottom line is that you can’t afford to pick up an injury. There is simply no opportunity to recover without staying off of the oars, and then someone else has to cover your shift, not ideal. Overall though, it’s the mental challenge that is daunting. Getting through that knock on the door every few hours and the words ‘you’re on’ are going to be the truly tough bit.

So why on earth would anyone say ‘Yes’?

Well, there’s a lot to look forward to. The wildlife that previous rowers have seen and experienced is just incredible. We’ve been lucky enough to be accompanied by pods of dolphins on some of our training rows off of the south coast of the UK, but those have been groups of 10-15. Imaging being surrounded by 500 to a 1000 dolphins? Or being in the water with Whales. And we’re learning a lot too. Sharks have always been at the back of my mind as the ultimate apex predator, but guess what!? They’re not. They’re scared of Orcas that hunt them just for their livers and tongues and, pleased to say, there’s not been a recorded incident of Orcas ever attacking humans in the wild (at least not that anyone survived to report…) Still not sure I’ll be entirely comfortable going over the side with Orcas. I’ll make that call if the opportunity presents itself. Turtles, Portuguese Man’O War, Tuna (we’re taking a fishing rod) and Marlin are also on the list of things to see – although Marlin have presented the most danger to rowers on the last couple of crossings when hulls have been pierced from underneath by the Marlin spikes when they’ve been hunting and decimating Tuna under the boats. A 15 foot Marlin will knock a boat through 90 degrees when it hits, with the power to push its spike 6 to 9 inches into the sleeping compartments which, if lucky, will snap off sealing the hole. There was serious talk about Kevlar lining the floors. On several occasions a ‘willing volunteer’ has then had to go into the blood-soaked water to apply an epoxy patch to stop the boat sinking. I’ve offered to organise the lottery for that task…

There’s also the incredible sense of space and isolation. It starts as an uncomfortable feeling but all who’ve completed the row say it becomes something you relish. The night skies, horizon to horizon of crystal-clear stars with zero light pollution, have to be seen to be believed and the sheer sense of power that the Atlantic shows you means you’ll learn more about yourself than perhaps you’re prepared for. And of course, let’s be honest, there’s the bragging rights. And did I mention the 12kg weight loss?

But more fundamentally, I think the reason the likes of you and me say ‘Yes’ to these sorts of things relates to what we all do for a living, the career path we have chosen. Why wouldn’t I say ‘Yes’? It took me about 3 seconds to decide. Perhaps it’s my huge dose of FOMO but there’s no way, having been presented with such an opportunity that I was going to let it slip by. And, unsurprisingly I think, that’s the response I get from nearly all of my military friends and colleagues. I’ve got quite a long list of reserves in case one of us drops out! It’s in our nature, or at least it should be, to be a bit expeditionary in our approach to life. It’s what we do. Can you imagine, in a year’s time, how you’d feel if you said ‘No’ and you had to listen to those that said ‘Yes’ banging on about it? I want to be banging on about it. I encourage all of our younger soldiers and officers (and older – hey – I’m over 50 now but still think I’m 25) to grasp these sorts of opportunities where they can. And importantly, if they’re not coming and finding you, go out and make them happen.

We’re raising money for a great charity called Action Medical Research and I’d ask you all to google them and see the fantastic work that they do. There’s also a connection to our team name, Elijah’s Star, and I challenge anyone not to need a tissue after reading the story. You’ll find us on Facebook and Instagram with #Elijahsstar and we have a website with more information about the team, the charity and the challenge at www.elijahsstar.com. It’s also worth having a look at the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge website and see if it whets your appetite…? Any future Atlantic rowers out there? A future REME team? Other Services, Regiments and Corps are getting into this now. More and more military teams are entering. For us, it would be fantastic to attract a load more followers throughout the Corps, present and past –there are also some opportunities to help us with the challenge signposted from the website.

Final two points; firstly, a huge vote of thanks to the Corps and the Corps ASM for supporting the two of us who are / were REME with a grant from the REME Adventurous and Enterprising Activities Committee, and secondly, a promise to follow this article up in February of next year to let you know how it went when I (hopefully) get back. But not before a well-earned week or two of rest and recovery in Antigua!

Lady Jayne. Team Elijah’s Star. 3-day training row, sunrise near Eddystone Lighthouse, south of Plymouth