April brings promise

April finally arrived after a six-month winter slog – I can finally go out without wearing the entire contents of my wardrobe. Morale is up.

My preparations for my row across the Atlantic Ocean in the World’s Toughest Row is well under way.

Physically, I’m more or less back to normal with six training sessions a week. This comes after a few months of injuries and illness (nothing serious, but it still stopped training). I feel quite good – not injury free, but good. I have tennis elbow and this means I can’t do weight training. Well, I can but with caution (probably won’t).

With the weather showing signs of summer, I even managed to get rowing on the water – felt very good. It’s always so nice to be on water. So all good on that front.

As my prep goes on, I am realising why ocean rowers say that getting to the start line is the hardest part.

I am now trying to get all the paperwork done to get the boat I have ordered into the country – it’d be difficult in English, but in German it is pretty tough going. You might think that the Swiss are not very helpful, but they are. Really.

Despite that, getting everything done is like trying to get a baby shark to wear her bib and eat her breakie – difficult, but doable with some patience, a wetsuit and my super cool diving knife (not to harm her, of course, just to wave it around a little).

I’m also planning a trip to the UK to collect my boat, plus a trip to the south of France for sea training – very fun indeed.

Before that, I’ll be speaking to the nice people at Rannoch Adventures to get my boat sorted. More fun. The current biggest problem is to get a number plate for the trailer that carries the boat – it’s actually more complicated than it should be.

Cross Rower is taking on the World’s Toughest Row as a solo in December 2025. The 3,000-mile (4,800km) from La Gomera in Spain to Antigua will see him face adverse weather conditions, loneliness and sore muscles. So far, 44 teams have registered for the race (including nine other fantastic solos). If you want to support Steve, please click here. Every little helps.

Battling injuries and insecurities

This is so frustrating.

Managing to get in a full training schedule is proving hard as I continue battling minor chronic injuries in my right arm, left leg, and lower back.

After the flu and a silly ailment that stopped me from training in the first weeks of the year, I now have to deal with a shoulder pain, niggling elbow and lower back tension.

I can train, and I am training, and quite hard. My most recent indoor row was my record since when I started, meaning I am in good physical shape. I just feel I can do far better. It can be quite tough on the body though.

Now, I’m doing nine trainings a week – three days with one session and another three with two sessions, plus a day off. The increased tempo might explain the injuries, but I really need to step up as it’s now less than 650 days to go. There is no going back.

I’m also somewhat concerned about my capabilities when it comes to the crossing. I have the knowledge, but my confidence is at a bit of a low. It comes in waves – one week I feel great and confident, then next two are low and insecure.

The next few months are going to be crazy with getting the boat and all the red tape around it, doing ‘live’ training sessions in the Med, and getting all the race paperwork done correctly and on time. All this come while managing a (currently) challenging job and also undertaking my family duties.

It’s all so terrifyingly scary and exhilarating at the same time. Can’t wait for the pieces to start falling into place to be honest.

What’s this all about?

In December 2025, I am participating in the World’s Toughest Row as a solo rower. The endurance race will see around 40 teams compete to cross the 3,000 miles from La Gomera (Spain) to Antigua. This is an unsupported row, meaning I will be all alone during the crossing.

A land team back home and the organisers (Atlantic Campaigns) will provide the important backup needed to complete the row.

Tough start to the year

So January has been a tough month to deal with, at least in terms of physical fitness.

I ended the year getting sick twice, which never happened before. This interfered with my schedule. I couldn’t afford to fall back further.

Starting 2024 meant stepping up to nine trainings a week, which included three days a week with two training sessions. In 2023, it was once a day, six days a week.

Thus far, I have only managed two daily trainings once. One week into the year, I developed a physical condition that has really taken a toll on training. This condition has knock on effects, meaning with January at its end, I have done relatively little.

It’s very frustrating as I’m desperate to really start pushing. With less than 700 days left, there isn’t too much time left to get in shape. It may seem like a lot, but there is a ton to do apart from training.

I know it’ll get better, but I’m not really known for my patience. Rant over.

Lots to do

When I decided to go on the World’s Toughest Row solo row across the Atlantic Ocean in October 2022, there was a ton of time to do things. The other day I realised that the row is actually next year.

Admittedly, it’s in December 2025, which means a tad less than two years. It may seem like a lot, but when you consider what I have to do, it’s not.

Doing it virtually alone (bar a friend and my wife) means that a great deal of the work falls on my shoulder. Add in the language barrier here in Switzerland and everything becomes more complicated.

There is also the matter of training, which, happily, is back on course. I wasn’t injured or anything – just has no electricity in the basement where my home gym is. That meant no HIIT nor weights training.

It did mean a lot of time on my rowing machine, so much so that my had calluses feel like I have little pebbles permanently attached to my hands.

On a very positive note, I think I’ve cracked the navigation thing and now have set a 100 nautical mile corridor that I will (should) stay in for my crossing. That’s around 200km – it may seem like a lot, and it is. Keep in mind that the weather and sea currents play an important part in all this and will more or less determine where I go. Having such a corridor allows me a great deal of flexibility.

The important thing is I know how to get to the other side.

My most pressing job now is to get the boat. There is a ton of paperwork required to get it in, and with the help from a Swiss rowing mate and my wife working the phones, I hope to manage to get her here without huge headaches.

Finding a name is also proving hard – not for lack of choice but because I have too many ideas. Will figure it out, but here as some options I’m considering:

  • Wingster
  • Wings
  • Sea Fox
  • Emma
  • Sophie
  • Wanderer (or Wanderoar)

I’ll figure it out. Feel free to send suggestions.

Training: Ramp up phase coming to an end

In December 2025, I will be rowing the Atlantic Ocean as a solo in the World’s Toughest Row.

I started training for the row in October 2022, getting back onto my indoor rower in what was a somewhat haphazard pattern that was aimed at getting my muscles, hands, bum and everything else used to rowing again.

It was around the same time that I also started training for a marathon in Zürich, a long time wish I had. This meant dividing my time between rowing an running, with running taking the lino’s share of my training time.

With the marathon done and dusted towards the end of April, my focus sharpened and rowing – mainly indoors – became my priority.

The period between October 2022 and December 2023 was designated as my ramp up phase, where I get back into shape. My litmus test for this was being able to do 45 minutes on the rowing machine without any big effort.

To do this, 45 minutes on the erg also became my minimum time. In comparison, when I did my 2021 row, 30 minutes was my minimum time.

I also wanted to do so in a decent time for a 53-year-old. In my books, that’s 2 mins 30 secs or less per 500 metres on a regular (rather than just once or twice). To put this in perspective, my earlier times were more like 2 mins 50 seconds per 500 metres.

This has been achieved with a month to spare, so now the ramp up time can successfully come to an end.

The next stages begin in January. Here the focus will be on technique, muscle building, and endurance.

Injuries
Inevitably, injuries are starting to creep back in. My right leg hamstring has been an issue for years, and still is. I feel pain, but can continue working out normally. It’s uncomfortable, but I can handle it.

I also have a left side lower back pain that seems to come and go. That is more concerning as it makes training quite hard.

The worst is my right shoulder. I hurt it in a biking accident seven years ago and it is now flaring up again. I believe it’s because of my increased weight training and more intense rowing. The pain is extending down the arm to the elbow and the other way to my neck.

In the end stages of the ramp up training period, I started training two times a day on certain days. This has also exacerbated the injury. The issue us that the intensity is now increasing.

I’ve taken a couple of days off training with the hope that everything calms down and I can kick off the next phase.

Routine on a rowing boat

In just under 800 days’ time, I’ll be rowing across the Atlantic Ocean solo in a 7.3m rowing boat. The race, organised by Atlantic Campaigns and known at the World’s Toughest Row, is expected to take me 55 days but could take as much as double.

Probably one of the most important elements is establishing – and sticking to – a routine on board. I am a creature of habit, so this is even more important.

Everything rotates around rowing. In non-solo crossings, most crews follow a two-hours rowing, two-hours off schedule. As a solo, you do whatever you want, based on your strengths and likes (or dislikes).

This is what my plan looks like.

12am to 2am: This is my last (or first, whichever way you look at it) row of the day. I’m not overly keen on rowing at night, but lower temperatures will make for a more comfortable ride. At the end of this row, I will take my longer rest.

2am to 6am: At the end of my row, I plan to have a hearty meal and then sleep (or rest) for four hours (more like 3.5 hours as I’ll need to prepare food and make sure the boat is fine). Sleep depends on how rough the sea is and any alerts – the AIS warning for ships that are close by, or the navigation aids warning me that I’m going too far off my set course.

Because of the latter, I may choose to deploy my sea anchor (like a parachute but underwater) to keep the boat stable and also avoid going backwards. Just a side note – being able to sleep for more than an hour would be really amazing, so fingers crossed for this.

6am to 8am: After getting up around 5.45am and checking the boat, it’s immediately back on the oars at 6am. I’m not really a breakfast person. Better get to work at once. This is also sunrise time when nature puts on a show for me.

8am to 9am: With four hours rowing under my belt, I now need to get ready for the day. This time is, foremostly, coffee time. I didn’t take coffee on my last row as I didn’t like the powder milk. It’ll be creamer this time. After coffee, I have to clean the solar panels, boil water for the whole day, check the boat, see exactly where I am and make sure I’m still heading in the right direction, and clean and clear the boat. Maybe an hour isn’t enough. Oh, and I also need to eat something.

9am to midday: This is the first of my three three-hour rows of the day.

Midday to 2pm: Lunch time. With the water already boiled, this won’t take long to prepare, and even less to eat. At this time every day, I’ll note my position and the miles travelled. My BGAN, a piece of equipment that gives me internet on the ocean, will be turned on so I can check what’s happening in the world and get in touch with my family and shore team to discuss the weather and routing. My sat phone will also be on, waiting for a call from the race organisers who check in regularly to see that participants are fine and provide help as needed.

2pm to 5pm: My second three-hour row. Later on in the row, this becomes the worst part as temperatures hit 40 Celsius and beyond – heat exhaustion was an issue last time. Solar panels also get another clean.

5pm to 7pm: Eat and rest.

7pm to 10pm: Another three-hour slog, with the benefit of enjoying the sunset.

10pm to midnight: Sleep.

There are other things to factor in – hull cleaning, bad weather, injuries, fatigue, repairs, and the dreaded storms, which means being locked in the cabin for hours on end. Can’t wait.

Watch my last rowing adventure across the Atlantic here.
If you are interested in supporting or sponsoring my row, you can contact me on steve@chetcuti.ch

Solo and unsupported, but not alone

The biggest misconception about rowing an ocean – solo or not – is that a boat with an engine (or sail) follows you around.

Rowers are thought to wake up bright and early, row for 12 hours and then get back on the support vessel for a nice warm shower, dinner, glass of wine, followed by a comfortable sleep in a normal bed before repeating everything the next day.

That’s not exactly what happens. It’s actually very far removed from reality.

In keeping with the spirit of the first ocean rowers, the row must be unsupported, meaning there is no support ship, and we cannot accept any assistance from outside, not even a cold can of beer.

From when I leave land on 12 December 2025 until I get to land – presumably around mid-February 2026 – I will be on my own. I will be rowing a minimum of 12 hours a day, up to 14 hours if possible.

The remaining time will be used to maintain the boat, contact race organizers and family plus my support team, taking footage, checking internet (yes, I’ll have internet this time), cleaning, cooking and sleeping in a small cabin.

I will be taking part in a race – the World’s Toughest Row – so I will be racing. It’ll be difficult to beat the teams of five or four, but I may be able to catch some duos and trios if I push hard enough and am lucky with the weather.

The race organizers have a sailing boat visiting rowing boats, but they won’t stay around for long for me to get on board to shower and have dinner and take a nap.

For most part, I will be rowing. Solo and unsupported maybe, but not alone in many ways.

Watch my last rowing adventure across the Atlantic here or see below.

If you are interested in supporting or sponsoring my row, you can contact me on maltarower@gmail.com  

197 and counting

Rowing an ocean is a daunting task – doing it alone even more so. As of September 2023, just 197 people rowed the Atlantic solo in modern times. Of these, 22 were women. There were a further 87 incomplete attempts.

To put things into perspective, 656 people had reached the altitude of space by July this year. That’s more than three times the number of people who took on the Atlantic rowing challenge solo.

By the time I get to go, there will have been at least another 21 people I know who will row the Atlantic, probably a dozen or so more.

My solo row takes place in 2025 – on 12 December of that year to be exact. Just over 30 other teams will also be in the race – the World’s Toughest Row orgnaised by Atlantic Campaigns. I will row from La Gomera to Antigua, around 3,000 miles of wild Atlantic Ocean. This will be my second row (see below), but my first solo.

Every one of us has a different reason to row, but we all share the common desire to do something which is relatively unique.

In my case, I will become the first Maltese person ever to row an ocean solo. I believe that for a nation so intimately tied with the sea, it is nearly a must for our flag to fly proud among the many nations who have produced solo ocean rowers.

Going solo means I have to take care of everything on the water during the crossing – rowing (duh!), navigating, steering, keeping the boat clean and maintained, making water, managing power, keeping a watch-out for ships and potential dangers, taking care of myself, cooking, ensuring the boat has a good trim, and removing barnacles from the hull.

There is a lot to do.

Back home, there will be a team who will be helping with my journey. With such a huge challenge, the backroom team will provide invaluable support for me to get to the other side.

The costs for my row are expected to be around €140,000 – if you know anyone interested in supporting me, please send me an email. More information is available below.

Source for statistics

This time I’m going solo

When I took on my Atlantic Ocean row in 2021, it was the biggest challenge I had ever done. Nothing else came remotely close.

Saying it was tough is an understatement. I had even sworn never to do anything like that again. I obviously lied, or maybe my memory of the extremely hard times I went through quickly left my mind and were replaced by the good parts.

You can see a 30-odd minute video of my trip here, from prep in the months before to the actual crossing.

After 2021, I struggled with post-row blues for quite some time. I can’t explain it, really, but something was amiss and I didn’t know what. I still don’t know what.

After giving it some thought, I decided to implement my original plan conceived back in 2019 – I’m going to row the Atlantic as a solo rower in December 2025. I’ll be taking part in Atlantic Campaign’s World’s Toughest Row (formerly TWAC),

My initial challenge to find sponsors failed miserably, so I’m going to have to figure out how to finance the row on my own.

Now, I’m working on getting a boat, a Rannoch R25, and doing the required courses to qualify for the race. This includes training sessions on open water (as opposed to lakes in Switzerland), so holidays for the next years are already planned. Not sure the kids will be overly happy, but who knows.

What I do know is that the countdown has started – I’m just under 900 days away.

Row diaries: Not an easy start

It’s been an eventful but rewarding first leg of the journey for Steve and the rest of the team as they battle rough seas and high winds on their Atlantic adventure.

With swells of up to 3 metres, waves crashing over the side of the boat and the rowers frequently being swept out of their seats, it has certainly not been an easy start to the voyage.

Steve himself has been thrown from his seat countless times, cutting a finger on one occasion. And to make matters worse that finger then got infected which has hampered his rowing considerably. But the team have medical supplies on board and are treating the injury well.

They have also had to spend long periods on sea anchor to cope with the weather conditions and that has slowed their progress.

In one of his updates to home, Steve said he hasn’t been eating much during this first stretch, making do with energy drinks and chocolate for the most part and forcing himself to eat proper food on just the odd occasion.

The reality is that things which are normally simple – sleeping, eating, cleaning your teeth – become so much more complicated in the confined, turbulent environment of the boat, so they just don’t happen, Steve explained.

In one particularly distressing update, he told how the red bucket which the team had designated as their toilet broke meaning the black bucket, which was originally intended to be used for showers, has now been promoted to toilet duties.

It’s fair to assume there isn’t going to be a lot of showering taking place over the coming weeks…

Despite everything, however, the team is still making healthy progress and is many hundreds of kilometres on their way towards South America. A long way to go but they are well on their way.

Steve is rowing across the Atlantic Ocean to raise funds for three great organizations. To find out more and to donate, go to www.crossrower.ch (de.crossrower.ch in German)

Atlantic Ocean Rower