uppsala.com row impressions

Rune Larsson's Belated Christmas Letter Trollhattan, Sweden, January 2002

Dear Friends,

Christmas is a wonderful holiday. It does also provide the reason to stay in touch with old friends, by sending Christmas cards, or Christmas letters, like this one. You might wonder why I send you a Christmas message one month too late. The reason for this is the fact that I spent the holidays in a little rowing boat on the Atlantic Ocean, and I did not get home to Trollhattan until January 18.

One day, it was the terrible "Terror Tuesday September 11", I received a phone call from a young stranger who introduced himself as Niclas Mardfelt, and he asked if I wanted row across the Atlantic Ocean with him. I got Mary’s blessings to do so (you would not be Rune if you turned that offer down), my employer told me to go f..k myself if I wanted that long leave of absence, and within a few hours I had accepted Niclas’ offer.

We started in the longest rowing race in the world from San Juan on Tenerife on October 7:th. The finish was at Port St. Charles on Barbados, and the distance was 3000 nautical miles (5400 kilometers or 3375 miles). 36 boats were in the race, and some of the rowers had Olympic credentials. Niclas and I were not even rowers.

I was really scared before the race started. Most of all I was terrified by my predisposition for motionsickness. Then I was worried about being unemployed at the age of 45. Death, which also was a great concern of mine, came on third place on my priority of fear. But as soon as I took the first stroke with the oars, a great calm came over me. The seasickness was gone after three days and never came back. Thoughts of how I should support my family were replaced by ideas of making money from lectures and articles about this adventure. The incredible force of a roaring ocean struck us after a couple of days, but our little boat could handle the brutal 20-foot waves.

Our main problem was caused by a dysfunctional electric system. We had solar panels and a watermaker that was supposed to desalinate seawater for our daily need. But that machine did never function. After 12 days we had consumed our ballast water, and now our lives depended on our ability to rebuild the watermaker to manual pumping. When we had only 80 centiliters of water left, Niclas managed to fix the device so we could handpump it, and from that day we spent between four and twelve hours per day just pumping the watermaker. In the beginning, the machine functioned just fine, but as time went on, o-rings, filters and the semi-permeable membrane deteriorated. In mid December we could not get any water at all from the machine. We called for the rescue vessel, but did not know if they could find us on this great ocean. In order to not consume what little water we had left, we had to stop rowing and were just laying in the sleeping cabin.

On Christmas Eve I saw a sail on the horizon. I called the boat on the VHF-radio, and to our luck it was the rescue vessel. They did almost miss us. Now we got 200 liters of water and more food. That was a great Christmas present indeed! Niclas and I took the oars again with rejuvenated strength.

This was my first time on an ocean, and I loved it. Many people would get their spirit healed if they had the chance to sit in a rowing boat a starry night, or enjoy the sunshine of the day. I have never been more calm and stress free in my life. Well, sometimes we got adrenaline kicks too. When the winds were gale force and the waves 20 foot, with occasional freak waves of brutal proportions breaking over us, sometimes coming in from the side so we almost were thrown out of the boat, then the pulse might be slightly elevated.

One night I was thrown overboard by a freak wave, just as I had unbuckled my safety harness. The next wave lifted the boat so it landed on my forehead. When Niclas tried to rescue me, he accidentally punched his fist in my left eye. When I was back in the boat, he stood there with bloody knees and I had a bloody nose. We just laughed at the whole situation, but I was more careful during the rest of the trip.

Nature put on a great show for us once in a while. Well, quite often, I would say. Sometimes lots of dolphins played around the boat. It was absolutely obvious that they communicated with us, and wanted to put on some sort of artistic performance. The feeling when they seeked and got eye contact with us humans was very special. After such a show, I definitely did not feel any desire to hurt anybody or to throw any garbage in their home – the Ocean. Whales were plentiful out there, and once I sat at the oars and a flock of 20 to 30 animals approached us from the stern. All of a sudden we were in the middle of the flock, with a dozen whales on each side. Pfffschoo, pfffschoo, pfffschoo, sounded all around us, as they blew out air from the holes on their heads.

One might wonder how Niclas and I could live on that little space for more than three months without killing each other. The fact is that we functioned very well together, and contrary to many other teams, we parted as good friends after we had finished. Niclas is a great guy, and we did actually have fun together.

A race like this one has many complicated dimensions. In order to win, or take one of the top places, one needs to be tall and muscular, and have great endurance, as well as a boat that functions really well. We had none of these qualities, maybe except for the endurance. But if one has to deal with all the problems that Niclas and I had to face, and if one has to stay on the ocean for more that twice the time the winners needed for their journey, muscle becomes relatively less important. The mental ability to cope with being on the boat for such a long time, creativity when it comes to solving problems, and the art of getting along, increases in importance day by day.

My main personal problem was that I missed my family. The dream was that they should stand there on the pier when we finished. This thought became a major dream for me. A real "pain in the ass" was the pain in the ass. We both developed blisters and seat sores early on. Salt crystals cut and irritated the skin when we were sitting there rowing. Since we sat on a moving slide board, and our thighs rubbed against some private parts, we also got something we called "great balls of fire". After just a week or so, we found out that pants aggravated the problems, so we started to row naked and did only wear pants when the rescue vessel with its female skipper came by.

Days piled up and became weeks, weeks became months, and bells far too distant for us to hear were ringing in the new year, 2002, but Niclas and I were still on the ocean. One evening, it was Tuesday January 8, I crawled out of our little sleeping cabin to take my shift at the oars.

"Look there on the horizon! The sun has set a while ago, but there is still a greenish light," said Niclas. It was Barbados!

The next evening I rowed in south of the island and when I was about one mile from the shores, the tradewinds brought a smell of vegetation. Some hour later, as I was rowing just 200 meters from the shore, I heard reggae music and smelled fresh bread from a bakery. Niclas took over shortly after we had passes the capital Bridgetown, and as he was rowing north along Barbados’ sheltered West Coast, I went to sleep. When I woke up, the new day had dawned and when I peeked out from the cabin I saw sandy beaches and palm trees. It looked like we were rowing in a tourist brochure.

As we approached the finish at Port St. Charles, the harbormaster came out with his boat. He made a loop around us and went back in to port again. But shortly thereafter he came back. When his boat was just 50 meters from us, four heads peeked up. It was Isak, Zakarias, Mary, and her brother John, who waved a Swedish flag. I will not even try to describe the feelings I had when I saw that.

95 days in a rowingboat really did a trick to my balance. I could not walk straight on land, and everything, marble floors, asphalt, as well as grass seemed to be moving. The central nervous system needed a few days to adjust to a new existence on Terra Firma.

The rowing trip between The Canary Islands and Barbados was one of the greatest experiences in my life. This was a dream I nourished for 30 years, and now it had come true. In addition to all this, reality was even more fantastic than what I had been dreaming about. Believe it or not, but I would really like to row across the ocean again. But the next time I would like to have a functioning watermaker so I can drink as much water as I need, and wash off the salt crystals.

If you want to see pictures from our trip, or read our diary (available in English), you can surf in on team.uppsala.com

Now I will shave the beard off, as well as getting a haircut and a job. And I will resume my very important role as a father and husband.

Oh well, I must tell you that as I sat there with the oars in my hands and looked up at all those thousands of stars, I found out what the meaning with our lives is. The meaning with our lives is that we should view and admire the Creation. This fantastic Universe would exist completely in vain if nobody looked at it and became amazed over the fact that atoms can be clustered together in such an incredible way that they become a flying fish. Or a dorado that eats the flyingfish. Or a hammershark that eats the dorado. Or a rower who sees all this and becomes overwhelmed with feelings of amazement over the incredible mystery of life, and with a great sense of gratitude finds out that he is part of all this here and now.

Or maybe one can express it in a more simple way, by saying that the meaning with life is that one should write way too long Christmas letters, and send them out one month too late. An individual who does that has really been living

Best regards

Rune