Early 1998 saw Rob and I heading for Scotland. The miles steadily slipped by as we pushed northward for another mountain bike trip. Our intention was to base ourselves at Inverary and cycle around the mountains and coastal region of the area. Unbeknown to him, I was armed with a file of the recent Atlantic Rowing Race, information I had systematically collated from the Net over previous months. I enjoyed these excursions of ours but felt the time had come for a more substantial challenge. As the 2001 race required teams of two, Rob was the obvious choice of partner. As well as our long standing family friendship we had both been through many tough, challenging and sometimes dangerous situations which had developed a high level of mutual trust, respect and understanding. Relaxing in some distant pub in front of a log fire with some good food and drink after a hard day on the road helped greatly to cement our friendship, not to mention a developing taste for the finer qualities of single malt whiskey.
I lifted the file from the back seat and handed it to Rob, "fancy a go at this?" I asked, Rob opened it and began to read the contents. Apart from the noise of the car I realised an all pervading silence had settled on our journey. Rob's initial reaction was less than enthusiastic but after a few pints in the pub that evening he seemed to be warming to the idea! We had an enjoyable few days on the road but didn't talk much about the Atlantic Challenge. We returned to Appleby and just before I left for Worcester asked him to let me know whether or not he was up for it.
In the meantime I had heard from race organisers, The Challenge Business, that a second event was to be staged in 2001. It would start from Tenerife in October and would be open to 50 crews of two in standard one design boats which each team would be responsible to purchase and build from its original kit form.
Registration was on a first come first served basis and I was desperate to make sure our entry would arrive at Challenge Business HQ ahead of the rest to ensure our place was secure. I rang Rob for a final decision as we had to send completed application forms with photos and an initial cheque for £150 each. Rob confirmed his intention to join the team and on 6th June 1998 I posted the payment and paperwork, marking the beginning of the long and all consuming road to the start line.
The thing that struck me about this first major step was the transition from an idea to reality. I experienced a genuine change which I can only describe as one of those significant defining moments in life. Prior to this point the race was something out there that other people had experienced, I could rationalise many reasons why I should not go ahead with it, family, financial commitments, a reasonable job and at 42, it could be argued, that it was not the optimum time in life to try and transcend from a basic level of fitness to that of an endurance athlete! Oh yes, and the small matter of finding the estimated £50,000 in cash and kind needed to complete the enterprise, could have also been a bit of a stumbling block! Someone once asked me, 'are you creative within or subject to your circumstances'? This has been one of those pearls of wisdom I have often fallen back on when making big decisions that seem to push back the boundaries of 'normal life', I guess it was time to be creative!
I received confirmation that we had been successfully registered and set about researching what would be involved and how we would tackle the major challenges ahead.
I made the decision to try and attract a main national sponsor within the period from June to October 1998. After that we had to start paying ten quarterly instalments to the Challenge Business of £1150 which would eventually make up the £11,500 race fee the organisers required. This excluded the £300 registration sent with the initial application and £2350 to cover the cost of the boat kit. The other £11500 was to cover administration costs and the provision of two Challenge Business Yachts which would act as safety vessels throughout the duration of the race. At least that was our assumption, because despite requesting it, a complete breakdown of this sum never materialised from the organisers.
I had some help to design a logo and letterhead, put together some resource materials and began to write letters to potential sponsors. I compiled a hit list of companies that a number of people had suggested. It represented a broad swathe of different businesses. The reasons for targeting each one were varied. I had been a long term customer of some, others, had links with water sports, boating and all things maritime, a few resulted from contacts given to me and the rest had local or regional profile.
I began this process full of hope and enthusiasm, after all fewer people had rowed an ocean successfully than reached the summit of Everest. Surely the visionaries of UK plc would be inspired by our brave quest, emulating the great British tradition of expeditions and adventure!
However, the replies soon revealed zero inspiration and a total lack of vision. They generated two fairly standard responses which became boringly predictable. Firstly, no response at all, or secondly, a standard letter saying, thanks but our budget is spent for this year, even though we wouldn't have supported you anyway, however we wish you luck. This was a bit depressing, especially as the odds of Corporate 'luck' financing our Challenge where even less than the those surrounding the purchase of a Lottery ticket! On rare occasions I would receive a personal response from a potential sponsor, albeit negative, but clearly the individual had taken the time to read the letter and consider my request, which was vaguely encouraging. One of these came from Fran Cotton, boss of the clothing company, Cotton Traders, I had been a long time customer of his and thought it worth a shot, unfortunately it missed the target, even though I still wear the trousers!
Having written hundreds of letters none of which bore any fruit it became a little warring when well intentioned individuals said for the hundredth time, 'why don't you try Richard Branson'! The fact is we did, experiencing the same boringly predictable replies, on both occasions.
At the same time Rob was pursuing one or two contacts to link with national charities. This looked very promising at one point but despite initially positive meetings and telephone conversations the information never seemed to get as far as the decision makers.
I guess it was worth a shot but the huge amount of time to execute this relatively expensive exercise for no result, represented the first great hurdle to overcome in our bid for success. However if you set yourself the challenge of rowing an ocean giving up at this stage is not an option. It was time to alter course.
Finance wasn't everything however. I only had limited rowing experience, much of it gained during the training to qualify as a lifeboat Coxswain, whilst in the Merchant Navy.
To achieve this, all eight Cadets and the CIO (Cadet Instruction Officer) would launch one of the ship's lifeboats from davits situated up to 70 feet above sea level, depending on how heavily laden the MS Manora was at the time. We would take it in turns to command this operation which entailed releasing the boat from its lashings, lowering it over the side to deck level, embarking the rest of the team, controlling its decent to the sea below and then climbing 70 feet down a rope ladder to the waiting boat. Not a task for the faint hearted or anyone suffering from vertigo! Having motored away from the ships side we would begin the task of rowing round the port, each of us using a big wooden oar to contribute to the propulsion of this great white fibre glass tub, achieving a pace a snail would have been proud of! At the conclusion of the rowing exercise, we would return to the ship, 'rest on our oars', 'toss our oars' and stow them, the lifeboat falls would then be attached to the bow and stern, whilst one of us began the long climb back up to the boat deck to operate the winch. It would then be brought back up and secured ready for another exercise or a real emergency at sea. Once we were all proficient at this procedure, we were examined for competency and if successful, awarded our Lifeboat Coxswains certificate, an accolade we all managed to achieve!
That really summed up my experience apart from a few trips of varying length in rowing boats on rivers, lakes and the sea whilst on holidays or days out. Of course I wasn't a stranger to the sea, ships or boats and had extensive experience of a variety of craft in different situations. Kayaking was the one sport that I had probably engaged in more than any other on a consistent basis. In fact when I was still at school I went on a course in Scotland which ended on a high note shooting Grand Tully rapids after a 12 mile paddle down the River Tay. I distinctly remember the impending sense of doom as I approached a large rock at the top of the rapid. This could have had something to do with the roar of water as the river disappeared either side of the rock and the illusion of nothing beyond except space. Being so low in the water you couldn't see beyond what was immediately in front of you until you were about to be propelled into the churning water of the rapid as it fell away either side of the rock. It was my turn, the rock flashed past as I entered the rapid via the right hand channel, I was catapulted into a maelstrom of water going at a colossal rate, I paddled for all I was worth and as quickly as it had started, it was all over. I had survived with a wonderful sense of excitement probably fuelled by a combination of adrenaline and terror coursing through my veins. It was great!
I had also got a taste for sea kayaking and decided to build my own craft. I bought a plywood kit and constructed it in a room over my Dad's garage. It performed very well and gave me a great deal of pleasure. The construction of the kayak was also based on the use of fibre glass resin and tape and subsequently I built a Canadian Canoe in the same way. Part of the Atlantic Challenge was to build the boat we would compete in, so this experience gave me a bit of expertise and a lot more confidence than I would have had otherwise.
Anyway, I decided in June that I should head for the Worcester Rowing Club and see if I could pick up a few tips and basic rowing skills. The Atlantic boats used sliding seats and the rowing technique is similar to that used by those who delight in propelling a vessel not much wider than a pencil at the fastest speed possible rate down a river or across a lake. The rowing fraternity are a funny lot. I'm not really sure whether they comprehended the exact nature of my proposal, although one club member did say his son had thought of entering the Atlantic Race but decided pulling the project together, especially from a financial perspective put him off. I eventually managed to contact the right person to give me some instruction and he offered to put me through their 'Watermanship' course. I thought it would be a good idea for Rob to do this as well but his distant location in Cumbria did cause a slight logistical problem. My coach therefore agreed to give him a crash course, (not sure that was the most motivational thing to call it) over a couple of weekends later in the year. So on Sunday 21st June 1998 I arrived at the Club for my initiation into the art of rowing Redgrave style.
I started off in a fibre glass boat with a relatively broad beam designed for greater stability, presumably to limit the potential for the hapless novice to experience a nervous breakdown by the end of the first session, as your whole concentration centres on trying to stay upright and not much else. Added to this, a length of line was attached to the boat for the first couple of lessons so if you did loose control, and that is a word I use with some caution at this stage of the game, at least the boat could be retrieved whilst you floated off to your inevitable doom over the weir at Diglis! I quickly progressed to being able to row the boat at the same time as sliding the seat back and forth. The idea is to use the power in your legs to give the maximum effect in propelling the boat forwards. Of course one of the major problems, peculiar to rowers, is not being able to see where you are going. Most people in their right minds think it better to look in the direction of travel and thus avoid contact with other craft or objects that may inevitably bring down disaster upon you. Rowers, however, think it better to see where you have been. I guess it has certain advantages when racing, especially if you happen to be in the lead, at least you can keep an eye on the opposition, but the general assumption seems to be that everything gives way to oars, which is fine, until the boat tries to apply this rule to the bank!
I had one or two lessons a week and started to get the hang of things. I progressed to a much sleeker wooden scull, the name given to boats that are driven by a rower with two oars, or blades for those in the know call them, with an occasional outing in a larger boat with a Cox and second rower. My coach told me that if you can master sculling then rowing won't be a problem. Well, whatever, all I wanted to be able to do was gain some knowledge and technique that would give me enough expertise to haul a tonne of boat 3000 miles across the Atlantic as efficiently as possible whilst avoiding unnecessary injury. It was rather ironic that the injury I finally sustained had nothing to do with the actual task of rowing.
Later in the Summer Rob came down for his rowing course, I think he tried to do it over 3 days. Anyway, at the weekend we took a double scull out together. Rob was extremely nervous about the stability of the boat, even with all our experience of kayaks it feels like you are starting all over again. We sculled up the river turned and started back towards the club. As we progressed our confidence grew and with it, the speed of the boat. The Worcester Race Course runs beside the River Severn and the main stand backs on to the river. The stairs leading to the various levels of the stand have glass all the way up on the outside wall which overlooks the river and on that day it was packed with punters going about their sporting business. We were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves as we powered our way past the crowd, suddenly one of the oars missed a stroke and the next thing we knew, the boat was capsizing and we were unceremoniously dumped in the drink. The water was quite warm and pleasant but the thought of contracting Weils disease and the need to get the boat back to the landing stage became our priority. The embarrassment caused by the obvious amusement of the race going public had nothing to do with the speed at which we completed this task of course!
A few weeks later I completed my 'Watermanship Course' successfully and was awarded a certificate to prove it. I had attained a reasonable level of competency and felt more confident about rowing. I was also starting to get fitter and thereby hangs another tale.
I wouldn't say I was unfit when we first set out on the Atlantic journey but I certainly felt I had a long way to go to reach the level of fitness I imagined would be necessary to survive the ordeal. I didn't really know much about what I needed to do, when I needed to do it and how often. Even if I had been confident about this, I had nowhere to go that had the necessary equipment and support, but help was at hand at this came as a result of a rather unusual encounter.
Rob had been having some work done on his house in Appleby, the builder had left a pile of sand he did not need and had offered it to a guy who lived up the road. He came round to collect it and during the ensuing conversation Rob told him about the challenge and our need for support with training. It turned out that Rob's new found acquaintance was a lecturer in high altitude nutrition at University College Chester. He travelled all over the world giving lectures on the subject and suggested Rob should contact Dave Kellett the head of the Sports Science Department in Chester. As a result of this introduction we were invited to a meeting with Dave and a group of other people from the Department to discuss the possibilities of a link with them. The meeting took place in November 1998 and it was agreed that a group of staff and students from the Department would look at all aspects of training up to and including the race itself. Their support would cover physiological, psychological and nutritional input, with the development of a weekly training programme. We would also be asked to come to Chester for testing every couple of months and occasionally conduct a 24 hour row in the lab and one 48 hour row. They wanted to do a Phd study on us which would be published after the race and part of the reason for these extended rows where to collect data under laboratory conditions. We arranged a date for our first testing session and headed home.
About the same time my nearest Health Club in Worcester had been taken over by the national Cannons chain. Paul Weighton had recently become Manager and I approached him to ask if he would be willing to give me a complementary membership in return for a logo on the boat and other PR opportunities. He was very supportive and enthusiastically agreed to give his full support along with his staff and club facilities. It was the first real breakthrough with regard to a tangible offer of genuine support and I left the meeting, not only very grateful but extremely happy that at last I had something to show for all those hours spent writing letters and making phone calls to no avail. It was also a real landmark in my strategy for support and sponsorship.
