Well, where do I start? It makes a change to be saying that in a positive way!
Following my blog yesterday, I went out for another evening’s rowing, fully expecting it to be fairly tedious. Pete’s last inmate (I say that lovingly, of course!) had even given me a game to play to pass the time - the phonetic alphabet game. You think of a word and then spell it backwards using the phonetic alphabet. I came up with the cunning plan of starting off by doing the words of the phonetic alphabet themselves: it would be a bit like a spelling bee, inadvertently saying the word itself to finish off! I must admit, I first attempted this game the day before. However, after confidently marching through alpha and bravo, I came across a problem: I’d forgotten what C and D were. Bugger! A bit of research later (thanks mum!) and I was all set for last night.
But then something strange started to happen. As the sunset was replaced by a magnificent full moon, my flag started to flutter a little more vigorously. Then waves started not only getting a little bigger, but coming my way. Before I knew it, I was flying a long in the right direction. I’m not quite sure how to say this, but it was rather pleasant. Actually, I was beginning to enjoy myself!
So I kept going. The conditions were ideal: the moon gave an amazing amount of light, allowing me to see everything I needed to see; the temperature was perfect, with a gentle breeze to go along with it; and the wind and waves were just casually helping me along. It was just like running downhill - if you did nothing, you didn’t really go anywhere, but as soon as you started to row, you could feel that little bit of assistance with every stroke, as the boat glided through the water. Even the flying fish were getting in on the fun, with one appearing over my left shoulder and somehow also managing to clear the opposite corner of Pete’s cabin - I was impressed! I eventually went to bed around 2 o’clock. I was looking forward to the morning!
The sun came up, and everything was as I’d remembered. I had a really pleasurable morning, rowing along without a care in the world. The fish were at it again, this time with a platoon of about 10 flying out of the waves together. There was even another rainbow, and not just any old one - this was complete and unbroken, perfectly framing Pete. I was very tempted to jump into the water to get a really good picture of the boat and rainbow. Sadly, I realised this would be impractical; it would almost certainly result in my death but, more to the point, I wouldn’t be able to send the pictures back - so that plan was reluctantly abandoned.
Since then, it hasn’t been quite so perfect, but I really can’t complain - by my reckoning I’m nearly 40 nautical miles closer to Antigua than when I went to bed last night, and there’s still a few more hours left to go!
The birds were also out in force, including the one that flirted with me the other day. I was all set to come on and complain about it, as it did exactly the same this morning, but it came back not once, but twice, and I finally managed to get some pictures. I’m afraid you’ve got three pictures of the same bird because, to be honest, I was pretty pleased with them! Any ideas what it is?
Many of you may not be aware of why Pacific Pete is named that. He is in fact named after another ocean rower, Pete Bird. What I’m doing at the moment, by rowing from Gomera to Antigua, is certainly pushing my limits, but it’s been done many times before. However, Pete Bird decided to do things that nobody had even attempted before, and really pushed the boundaries of what could be achieved. Not content with the mere 3,000 miles of Atlantic, he took on the Pacific Ocean, becoming the first man to row it solo. Most people would probably retire on that, fairly pleased with their accomplishments - but most people don’t do that kind of thing in the first place!
The next step was to row the Pacific again, only going the other way - the difficult way (as if the other way is easy!). Despite endlessly struggling with the weather, facing conditions that make my complaining about lack of progress seem laughable, he kept on trying and trying. Tragically, Pete never completed the row, and was lost at sea.
From what I understand, there was a memorial service today in Ireland to all ocean rowers lost at sea - sadly Pete is not the only one. It would also have been Pete’s 61st birthday. These are individuals who not only went out and did something difficult, but were attempting things far beyond what I’m doing. They did not do it for financial gain or anything like that, but just because. I never knew Pete Bird myself, but I am immensely proud to be rowing a boat named after a man who achieved so much, yet still kept attempting more.
(I apologise if there are any inaccuracies in this. I seem to remember there’s some good information on the Ocean Rowing Society’s website, so please look there if you’re interested in knowing more.)
