Somebody was really listening when I asked for things to go my way.

Progress has continued today in frenetic fashion. It seems everything is now heading west as though its life depended on it, and it’s dragging me along for the ride.

It’s difficult to capture the sheer lunacy of this situation in a picture - I tried and somehow at the instant I pressed the camera, the ocean pretended to be all nice and gentle for a split second. Sometimes you find yourself rowing along, looking back down a massive great hill, only a few seconds later to be at the bottom of another one, all the while wondering what the hell you’re doing there.

The good thing about weather like this is that, when you’re not rowing, you keep on moving at a steady pace. I decided to conduct a little experiment to discover whether there was actually any point in me rowing at all, or whether I should just get out the deckchair, put my feet up and relax. I must confess that I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted the result to be: one would allow me to relax guilt-free while destroying my ego by proving all my efforts provided no gain whatsoever; the other would mean I’d have every reason to row every minute I could possibly bear.

As I was about to start, the experiment was given extra credence by the fact that I’d just hit a new top speed - over 10 knots.

While I was having my lunch.

So, I proceeded to row for one hour, doing my best not to go too fast or slow. Nothing spectacular, just another hour at the oars. Then came the relaxing bit - an hour of drifting.

The results were in. Shockingly, I actually make a difference, even in weather like this.

Bugger. Rowing it is.