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Last night Cayle and James were on shift. It was just before midnight. The weather was rough but it wasn't the worst we have experienced. I had just come off shift and was getting comfortable in the cabin. I had just closed the door and made the cabin watertight. I was preparing to tuck into a packet of peanuts. Suddenly there was a huge crashing sound as a wave careered into the side of the boat. I couldn't hear too much from outside but I felt my body thrown from floor to ceiling and back again. The boat had been hit so violently that it pitched completely upside down.

Cayle and James had been ejected from their seats and thrown overboard. The kit was fantastic and kept us safe. We always row in lifejackets at night and so we are attached by a safety leash which keeps us attached to the boat even we get ejected into the sea. The guys got back on board and they are absolutely fine. It was a strange experience because when I looked at them I did not see fear in their eyes, in fact I think I saw excitement!  

The good news is that our old friend, our boat Endeavour, popped right back up and did exactly what it was supposed to do. Very reassuring – it works. The boat is designed to re-right itself in a capsize situation. The key things are to keep the cabin doors closed, so you have two air-pockets if you go under, and to have the weight of the ballast water in the storage compartments to help counterbalance the roll. It did the job and we were back up and running. Annoyingly we have lost a few miles in the race.

Almost straight after capsize I called the race duty officer (who is in charge of safety) and they have monitored our situation since. They were very professional and we had a calm and rational conversation. I also called Alex on our shore team and let him know that everything is under control and to keep our families as up to date as possible. You hear about capsizes so much, but think or hope they will not happen to you. But here we were. Upright. Upside down. Back up again. Probably almost as quickly as you just read those words. In the moment that it happened it was a shock, but it wasn’t a huge surprise in the context of the conditions that we have experienced so far. We are only a quarter of the way across and we have already lost a quarter of the fleet, almost all of them to rescue.

Now that the sun is back up I have had a pleasurable 3 hours steering and the weather has improved a bit. I hope that it will continue to be ok. There will be strong NE but weather dropping down a bit. It’s still punchy but not as worrying at night. Scott’s dad says that rolling is no excuse to slow down and that’s very much the attitude we take. 

1st place is only 140 miles in front of us. We’ve got some miles to make up!


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After a frustrating last 24 hours or so we began today with slow conditions and not much visibility. It was quite squally, with little rain showers coming and going, but things cleared quite abruptly around 8am and suddenly we could see land. After being hidden in the mist it appeared out of nowhere and it seemed really close! This last stretch was totally different to the first half of the race. For so much of this crossing the weather has been horrific, I have never experienced anything like this. Yesterday morning at 8 am marked the first time in the entire race that we had a full 24 hours out of full foul weather gear and today is also the first day that an equipment failure would not be a cause for emotional devastation. I always thought that we would make it, but equipment failures could have slowed us down a lot. The thought of breakages always kept us on edge. But now we can finally enjoy the realisation that WE HAVE DONE IT!!!!!!!!

Read More | posted on Jan 21, 2014


It feels great to count down the hours and the miles. It is a big morale boost to know that we are almost there. For most of the crossing I had felt confident that we would make it but we did have a few scares. When the auto-helm broke I did worry that we would be down to one rower for the whole crossing. One rowing and one hand-steering would have been a horrible routine. Luckily we managed to fix it. But the most important bit of equipment is my leg - it has never let me down.

Read More | posted on Jan 20, 2014


Hard as it is to believe, this is my final blog! It has been a moment to reflect on an extraordinary 7 weeks at sea and an even more extraordinary group of people. By that I mean not just the guys in the boat, but the many wounded persons that they represent. I have been thinking a lot about what this team has achieved and what we hope others can achieve. This project has been about setting a huge challenge, committing wholeheartedly to it and then facing every challenge head on in pursuit of our goal. There have been no excuses only a choice to live this experience to its fullest and to take a positive attitude to all things. I hope that we have demonstrated that it is not what people see in you but what you go on to do that counts. I want to thank to all those who have personally supported me – you know who you are. There were a few people who said it could not be done. Oh dear… you will have to kiss my nappy-rash!

Read More | posted on Jan 19, 2014