NEWS FROM THE ROUTE

Andreas ROMMEL

Atlantic West - East 2004

It was getting so frustrating that I was getting down both physically and mentally. I found myself in a similar situation as Jean-Luc, rowing against the waves and headwinds. I was thinking to stop my journey because of exhaustion.
The reason I found myself in this position for the first 30 days was because an announced storm was hitting south just before my departure. Therefore I was unable to go down and try to hit the Gulf Stream where Emmanuel got it.
So I started my trip going north, from then on, my nightmare started.

I’m glad I didn’t give up because now I’m moving forward at an acceptable pace.
Now I’m rowing 17 hours a day and it’s not as tiring as before.

I got in contact with the first officer of the “Jarvis Bay”, a British container ship, who gave me valuable meteorological information. He told me about three hurricanes starting from the Gulf of Mexico and headed north in my direction. I could hear the captain in the background insisting on picking me up. He asked three times and I said “no, I’m confident with my boat”. When I asked the first officer if those hurricanes would “blow me out in the middle of the ocean”, and said, “yes, most probably”. He must have thought I was crazy when I responded, “that’s what I was waiting for, a good push!”

Then the captain called me directly and told me his sister ship would pass by the area in a few days and would inform her of my position.
Two days later, the wind was getting stronger and the waves bigger. I think I was getting what I was asking for: at around 6GMT, it felt like something was smashing the boat with a sledgehammer. It was pitch black and I was inside. All of a sudden, my boat capsized. It didn’t turn over as fast as the first time. I laid on the roof for much too long. I felt like a hamster in a cage-wheel. I was totally in shock. This was it, I thought. Then the boat self-righted again.

The darkness made the situation worse. I was now in the middle of a heavy storm and I was getting battered. My survival suit and my beacon were ready. I felt my boat wasn’t going to take it this time.
Morning came, but I was still on gale nine with 41 knots winds and 25 foot waves.
In the afternoon, the winds went down to 30 knots, the waves to 15-18 feet.

I could feel “the Lady Georgia” lower down on the water, extremely heavy. The center of my boat was full of water, as well as all my compartments on deck. It took me two hours to get all the water out. After this exercise, I went back into my cabin to get some rest.
But something strange happened, I was listening to the sound of water dripping close to me. Too close. I began to check around me and found water inside my watertight cabin! I was horrified. Now I’m really scared; electrical wiring was submerged under water, my stove burner was under water, and I’m thinking I have a hole in the boat.

After searching for the problem, I realized that the outside compartments are connected to the inside ones. This doesn’t make them watertight anymore…it explained why my electrical water maker broke.
Now I won’t have warm food anymore. I feel like I’m turning into Robinson Crusoe in the middle of the ocean.
On a brighter note, the day the storm started, I saw a sea turtle following my drag, trying to mate with it. Then I saw four huge, white, dolphin type fish surfing the waves (do not know the names of this animal).

I would like to thank M.K. and Henry for their precious meteorological information and support.

London, ORS HQ

This morning I received a satellite phone call from Captain Stuart McNeill of P&O NedLloyd ship Jervis Bay, headed to Halifax. Captain McNeill told me that he was passing on a message from Andreas Rommel (who came up on his VHF radio) as follows:

 "All is ok with me. I heard about the four, such bad luck so close to home. I am glad to hear they are all safe. I plan to carry on to Europe". I thanked the Captain for his efforts, and the oceanrower and the container ship carried on their way.

Jervis Bay

Captain McNeill told that there is a sister ship on her way from Halifax and that he would pass positions of Andreas to her Captain  so that the ship can meet Andreas at sea

 Kenneth F.Crutchlow

My first 20 days was a battle against a very difficult current. This is my first expedition with the boat, and I discovered how heavy it is. Not to mention, I never rowed a boat before. But there is a first for everything, isn’t there?

I was rowing for 4 to 6 hours straight without moving 1 meter. I was shouting at the wind, the current, myself, asking why I was doing this. But at the end of the day, I didn’t lose a mile. Even if my progression was that slow, I never went back! This kept me going.

For the first 15 days, I was in a constant heavy fog. What a amazing surprise when 1 day I escaped it for a few hours, and saw a migration of about 15 whale sharks passing by the boat. Three of those giants came to check me out for about 10 minutes. It was surreal.

My first intense moment (before meeting Alex) was the day I nearly got crushed by a tanker. It was in the middle of the afternoon. Due to the fog, I couldn’t see further than 100 feet and the waves didn’t help much. I was minding my own business, swearing at everything as usual, when I heard a strange noise coming out of the fog. I was as exited as a kid, thinking, hey I’ll encounter some whales or other strange creatures. But coming out of nowhere, like a giant ghost, a huge 700 ft. metal mass was directing its course so close to me that I could read the name of the boat. I jumped on my radio and got the captain on. I asked him if he didn’t see me on his radar. He said no he didn’t, and asked me if he needed to change his course. Well, no, I told him to stay where he is. If luck wouldn’t be with me, I would have been crushed by now, and the captain wouldn’t even know it. My guess is, my radar has some issues in high waves.

Another fun detail, beside feeling I’m paddling through a field of mud for 14 to 16 hours, my water maker broke 3 days into my journey. Now I have to pump each night for 1 hour to get fresh water, just the idea of it makes me sick in my stomach, this pumping system is harder than rowing for an entire day. This brought me to drink half of my emergency water supply, and also push me to drink the minimum I need to survive.

Now let’s talk about Alex. I got a call from a reporter of the German “Stern Magazine”, telling me the good news about Cyclone Alex heading right towards me.

A few hours before I thought the cyclone would hit me, I secured everything the best I could. I took out the survival suit and laid it out inside the cabin. I was waiting anxiously all night long. I thought I would be in the middle of the storm by 9:00GMT.

9:00GMT came, the wind went up to 40 knots and the waves up to25 ft. The sky looked apocalyptic. But all of this didn’t stop me from falling asleep, as I was so exhausted. 

By 10:30GMT I was in a deep sleep. What a rude awakening I had as the boat flipped over 360 degrees! I was hit pretty hard, hurt my hips, hurt my face, my nose was bleeding. The wind went up 65 knots and the waves were 35-40 ft. high!

I can say to you Justin, there is no doubt your boat is self-righting.

I spent the first 2 hours inside, as I had no clue what to do. But I got nervous that I would lose something important during this nightmare, or the boat would just be smacked by a wave. I put my harness on and went out. What an adrenaline rush. I spent 5 hours in a T-shirt and a pants, soaked to the bone, repeating myself that I hade to direct the boat in order to surf the waves. The boat nearly capsized many times. It would lie on its side, but would be righted straight away. On some waves, I was going 12-15 knots. The situation was crazy, but I just couldn’t get back to my cabin.

After the cyclone, the only victim was my active radar detector. Not too bad, I thought.

To end this on a positive note, I’m getting used to my situation and my morale is high.

I think I should be hitting faster currents in the next few days.

I heard about the Pink Lady, I feel a lot of sadness for the crew, so close to target. But I’m also very glad that everybody came back safe, this is what counts. All my sympathy to you guys, and I hope I will get to meet you for a few beers in the near future.

I would like also to thank some of you for the support you have given to my mother (she needs it more than I do). My brother will write you a weekly update as I’m giving it to him per phone.