First of all, sorry for the lack of update yesterday. It was a peculiar, and at times frantic, day that left me in a slightly funny mood.

On the rowing side of things, it was thoroughly un-newsworthy. The winds remain very light, allowing me to make steady, if not breathtaking, progress south, and then I’ve been drifting pretty much due west when not rowing. I’m getting there, gradually!

I did, however, have one of the weirdest experiences of my life. One of the problems with rowing is that you’re not looking where you’re going. Obviously you glance round every now and again, but who knows how many things drift past unnoticed.

Well, yesterday I spotted an orange football drifting past. Being a rational kind of person, I figured this must have a briefcase full of money attached to it as payment for a transatlantic drugs deal - there could be no other explanation. Resisting the temptation to collect it and finish the row a rich man (destitution is just more fashionable these days), I rowed on.

Over the course of the next half hour, I rowed past some more bits of rubbish, and concluded that I must be following the path of another ship. Then, out of the corner of my eye (why is it always out of the corner? Why can’t some things just appear in front of me?) I spotted a sharp angle sticking up out of the water. I dived into the cabin to find my binoculars, only to discover they are a complete waste of time on a rocking boat (and me and Pete really do Rock, with a capital R). I could still work out that what I was looking at was either the largest and most sedate (both by some considerable margin) shark eve seen, or a drifting boat.

Not really knowing what the expected course of behaviour was, I very tentatively rowed over. As I got nearer, and the boat looked increasingly threatening, I decided to get out my biggest, scariest-looking knife. Quite what I expected to do with it I have no idea, but it seemed like the sensible thing to do.

Not receiving any reply to my calls, I rowed to within ten feet of the boat, and slowly drifted past. There was certainly no life on board. I could only see in a small part of the boat, but the stench once downwind was horrendous. Having reported the boat to the relevant authorities, it appears there are an increasing number of boats setting out from west Africa, in the hope of reaching the Canaries. Many get rescued, and the boats left to drift off; some do not. Although there was probably nothing on board, perhaps it was a good thing I didn’t get a proper look inside.

So, whales one day, refugees the next, what can I expect today? Well, rattlesnakes in the hold for starters (I’ll do anything for money!). As for the rest of the day, we’ll have to see, but I fear it may involve a lot of rowing!