An army is said to march on its stomach, apparently. And so do rowers (well, we row, incidentally in March) – to the tune of 6,000 calories daily.
Two questions
are frequently asked – what are you going to eat, and where will you be storing
the food?
We’ll be taking everything we need with us on the trip across the Atlantic, including food. Rose, our Rannoch 45 ocean going row boat, has ample storage space to be able to take everything. The food is dehydrated so it takes up less space and is also lighter.
Probably my favorite…
We will have
around four packet per rower per day, each of which contains around 1,000
calories. This is supplemented by snacks to make up around 6,000 calories per
day.
We’ll be having
a choice of different food, including Spaghetti Bolognese, couscous with Cajun
spices and vegetables, Asian noodles with chicken, fish and potato in parsley
sauce, and mixed vegetables, and vegetable tikka with rice.
There will also
be sweet freeze-dried food options, including chocolate chip biscuit pudding, custard
with apple, custard with mixed berries, granola with raspberries, hot cereal
with mango, and porridge with sultanas.
What we’ll be
doing is adding hot or cold water and giving it time to rehydrate before
eating.
What’s
interesting is that while consuming the equivalent of 12 Big Macs a day, I’ll
probably end up losing around 10kg. Makes it all worth it.
If you want to support Steve’s causes, go to www.crossrower.ch (or de.crossrower.ch in German). The site also includes detailed information on the trip.
While physical
preparations are relatively straight forward, it’s a different story for the
mental training for the row.
With less than
four months to go, I’m starting to feel anxious about the crossing, and am
preoccupied that I’m not paying enough attention to getting my mind in place.
It’s something
I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but only recently have I figured it
out (or at least I think I have).
When one thinks of
the prospect of rowing two hours on / two hours off for around 50 days non-stop,
the things that come to mind are hardship, pain and suffering, exhaustion, loneliness,
depression, regret, anxiety, and helplessness. Then add seasickness, fear, and
a touch of claustrophobia to top it all off.
I’m sure I’ll experience some if not all of those. But that’s not what’s really important. The important thing is managing to get over them and keep going.
But that’s not all. Everything I’ve done so far in life was aimed at reaching something, getting somewhere – driving for hours to get home from work, finishing a marathon or completing my thesis. It’s always been the getting there. That’s wrong. By doing this, I forgot to enjoy myself on the way.
My Atlantic
adventure will be just that – an adventure where I will look forward to every
stroke, enjoy every freeze-dried meal as though it were cooked by a
Michelin-star chef, spend time getting to know my fellow travelers, buzzing to
music, getting thrilled by sunsets and sunrises, respecting the greatness of
nature, and hoping the trip never ends.
I won’t miss
people, but look forward to seeing them on my return, especially my wife and
kids. I’ll enjoy the confined space of our cabin – after all, I’ll have ample
time to sleep in my big bed on my return.
It’s all about
mindset. That will be the biggest challenge.
As
a communications person, I’m finding that even the clearest of messages can get
distorted or misunderstood.
When
I decided to undertake my row, I created a website with all the relevant
information, something I thought would help people understand what the
challenge was about.
I
did this because if someone were to donate to my causes, they have a right to
know what I was doing and what the charities do.
The
message did not always get through in the way it was intended, so here are some
clarifications that may help:
On
the row across the Atlantic, we will
have no other boat or any other form of support whatsoever. Yes, it’s a small
boat in a big ocean. It’s a tough challenge, which is probably why very few
people have ever done it. The boat is equipped with all the necessary equipment
to get us to the other side safely, but it’ll be hard
Speaking
of which, in the history of mankind, a whisper over 1,100 people have rowed across
an ocean
It’s
not an exclusive male domain. Many women row across oceans, too. In our team,
we are very proud to have a female member (or, as we know her, a team member)
I’m
not asking anyone to row. All I’m asking is for people to donate to my three chosen
organizations. We had a charming old lady explaining to us why she and her
husband could not help as they were too old to row with us. “He’s got a bad
back, you know,†she told us. “I’m not sure we can make it.†Very sweet, but
not necessary, my dear. We’ll do the rowing
Speaking
of donations, all the money (literally all of it) go to the Hospice (Malta),
Terre des hommes, and Krebsliga. Not only, you can choose the organization you want
to help (I do not decide myself). There are links on my website that direct you
to accounts belonging to the organizations. To clarify again, the money NEVER
comes to me at any level
If/When
you donate, you will not (in any way) be paying for my ‘holiday’ on a boat.
Seriously. My idea of a holiday is somewhat different
You
may think I’m begging for money, that’s your prerogative. And if that convinces
you to donate, fine
If
you don’t trust me (also your prerogative), I’d just ask that you go directly
to one of these three organizations to donate. They need the money to help
people. Be it cancer patients or Syrian refugee children, it’s just nice to do
something altruistically
I’m
paying all my expenses out of my own pocket. All of them. It’s not cheap, but we
can manage
I’m
not asking you to like or support what I’m doing – it’s fine. It’s also fine if
you don’t let me know of why what I’m doing is silly, a way to attract
attention, a mid-life crisis gone very wrong, or (my favorite) an ego trip
Feel
free to call me crazy. You’re probably right on some level
I
don’t have a team of people helping me. It’s just my wife and me. We appreciate
the support we are receiving from a number of people, and want to say thanks.
Also, to those who have already donated, and even bigger thanks. Let’s hope
more follow your example.
It’s
now been nearly two years since I’ve embarked on this project and I must say
it’s getting quite tough – physically and mentally.
On
the physical side, I’m training twice or three times a day for anything between
two and four hours. Sometimes, I do 24-hour training sessions, rowing two-hours
on, two hours off, and in a few weeks I’ll do a 48-hour indoor row.
I
guess the body of a 50-year-old can only take so much, but I can’t really
afford to slow down. I also need to make sure that on 1 March 2021, I do not
leave on my trip already exhausted.
Having said that, I found out I have carpal tunnel syndrome in both my wrists, which means that a decision may be imposed on me. So getting carpal tunnel now may end up being a blessing in disguise.
The Atlantic crossing leaves Portugal on 1 March 2021
Hands
up
There
are nerves in your wrists that lead to your fingers. If these nerves are squeezed
or pinched, electrical impulses don’t get to your fingers as fast as they
should.
Today
I went to the doctor and unsurprisingly he found that the left hand is not doing
very well. The right is not much better.
This
is not too serious, but it means I need to get a double operation to fix them.
Hopefully. this will happen next week. It’s a relatively simple procedure, and
I’ll have to get the hands done two days apart. Not quite sure why.
Once
done, I need to take a 10-day to two-week break from intense training. That
sucks, but it’s also good for my body. I guess it needs a bit of a break.
The
will to go on
Mentally,
it’s more challenging. I’ve been preparing for this adventure for a long time
and believe I am in good shape. Then, suddenly, I started having misgivings in
September.
I
can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Probably, it’s a combination of many
factors – my hands being messed up, fatigue, a low response to my fundraising
efforts, little inroads with my social media campaigns (actually getting nearly
as many unfollows as follows), Covid-19 isolation, and the inability to travel
home.
It
really has taken it’s toll. It’s hard to admit, but I’m struggling. There are
good days, and there are bad.
Sometimes
I wake up in a cold sweat in near freak-out mode wondering what the hell I’ve
got myself into. Another, I’m on top of the world. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not
looking sympathy. I just need to ‘speak’ about this, even because I never had.
Despite
this, I am resolute in carrying out the crossing, even if it’s the last thing I
do. The determination to get to our final destination of French Guiana has not
waned. Not even a little bit.
A
few weeks ago, I did my first 24-hour training indoor row.
First few hours were fine. Then it got dark…
To be clear, the session involves rowing (indoors) for two hours, and then resting for two hours for a 24-hour period. The resting part includes eating, going to the bathroom, fixing injuries, and finding stuff on Netflix to watch.
The
training mimics what I’ll experience in my 6,000km row across the Atlantic,
planned for March 2021. This row will take anything between 46 and 60 days
(current record for that route is just a few hours over 47 days).
My
session began at 6pm and ended the same time the next day (actually, the last
two hours were rest’ hours, so I really finished at 4pm). The first session was
fine as my wife and kids were around, so I could chat with them and had
company.
My
second on shift began at 10pm, by which time is was getting dark and my wife –
who was feeling poorly – had already gone to bed.
I
finished my second shift at midnight. After four hours of rowing, my hands were
hurting, my bum was sore, and my left elbow was also giving me cause for
concern. Nothing serious though.
Silly o’clock in the morning. I’m tired
Dawn
broke, and my wife and kids soon made an appearance. That was nice. I virtually
didn’t sleep at all during the night. It’s not easy to sleep on a tiny mattress
on the floor. I guess I must have had a maximum of two hours actual light sleep
the whole night.
After
my fifth shift, around midday, I managed to sleep for around 90 minutes of my
two hours off period. That was nice.
The
rowing itself was quite OK and the aches and sores didn’t get much worse. The
only really exception was my bum. That hurt. I was glad it’s
What
I learnt from the row is that eating soup right before rowing is a very bad idea,
sleeping will be an issue for 24-hours (then I’ll sleep like a rock), and I
have to find a way of protecting my backside (we have padding on the real boat,
so this should be fine).
I think this was soon after 12pm
My
hands also hurt. It seemed like my bones were made or brittle material, and
some fingers went numb. It was OK while rowing, but I wonder how they will fare
after days of constant rowing in wet conditions.
The most important aspect for me was the message of support I received, even at 2am. They were so vital for me to keep going. On the water, I’ll be able to receive messages, but what will really help is if people donate. Hope that happens.
If you want to know more, or if you intend donating to my causes (aww, thanks), visit www.crossrower.ch (in English and German)
It took me some time before I came up with the name
Cross Rower for my Atlantic Ocean row, and in reality the reasons are very
simple.
Both my native and adoptive countries (Malta and
Switzerland) have a cross as their symbol. The Maltese eight-pointed cross is a
world-famous symbol that is recognizable everywhere. I always had a certain
liking for this cross, to be honest, so am very happy to be associated with it.
The Swiss flag, with a white cross on a red background,
is also universally known. I also have a strong connection with this country
and therefore I felt that I had to have something related to the country in the
name I use for the crossing.
Apart from that, I’ll be rowing across the Atlantic
Ocean – the connection can’t be more obvious than that.
I was asked about whether the cross is also a religious symbol, and the answer is no. Personally, I live by Christian values – generosity, respect, love, peace, charity – because I believe it’s the right thing to do not because there is any post-death reward (I don’t believe in heaven nor hell, nor any higher being). Just to clarify, I have no issue with people who have faith – it’s just that I don’t.
Finally, the Cross Rower emblem was created using the blade of an oar as a background. The blade is made to resemble a face with the eyes taking the form of a Rannoch 45 boat – the same which I’ll be on during my crossing.
March is a great month for many reasons – summer time
starts, my sister celebrates her birthday, the F1 season kicks off in earnest, and
everyone seems happier. It’s also exactly a year until Cross Rower takes to the
seas.
That’s right – my Atlantic challenge is officially
a year away. I have 365 days (give or take a day or two) to get ready to row
6,000km across the Atlantic with my five companions.
My quest started around 30 years ago with my first
thoughts to row around Malta, my home country. Life intervened and nothing came
of it. Now, I’m in the final 12 months of preparation to row the Atlantic Ocean.
I started training for the row in January 2018, two
months after I decided to undertake this epic trip. Staring with 30 minutes of
rowing every two or three days, I’m now up to a minimum of two hours training
every day.
Now that I can say the row will happen ‘in less than a
year’, it’s beginning to feel a bit scary. At the same time, I can’t wait to
go. I can best compare it to bungee jumping – absolutely terrifying until you
leap.
I’m doing the row as a personal challenge for myself,
but I’m also collecting funds for three important charities. You can find out more
here.
Today is also the day when Ralph Tuijn, who will skipper my trip,
leaves on his 10th ocean crossing. I wish him all the very best.
It’s been two years since my brother Michael passed away.
Michael (Cuti) spent the last years of his life making sure everything
was prepared for his death, fighting hard, giving people hope when there was
none, and keeping his spirits high.
It was a struggle, but every time I visited Malta, I was taken aback at
how he kept on going despite what he was going through.
In this same spirit, I will be taking on a challenge of my own – I’ll be
rowing the Atlantic ocean in exactly a year to raise money for three charities:
Hospice (Malta), The Swiss Cancer League, and Terre des hommes.
If he were here, everything would be completely organized, his group of
amazing friends would have been roped in to do various tasks, and he would
inevitably have lists of all things that have been done, are being done, and
others that have to be done in an organized folder that would put the most
organized body to shame. It was annoyingly organized.
For me, it’s a bit different – all the above hasn’t been done, my lists
are short and incomplete, and my organization is somewhat chaotic.
I guess my brother was the one who got the brain – I obviously got the
dashing looks…
OK, now that you have stopped laughing, we need to get serious.
I need your help. No, you don’t need to come and row with me. What I ask is that you visit my website – www.crossrower.ch – and start donating to the three organizations I’m collecting money for on my brother’s behalf.
If you do that, it’ll be ‘alright’.
Another thing – once you’ve done that, share the link and ask your
friends and family, colleagues and neighbours, and anyone else you may know to
do the same. If you do only one of these two, it’s also cool.
I can’t stress enough that charities get 100% of the money you donate,
not 50% or 60% – a full 100%. You will not pay for me to go ‘on holiday’ across
the Atlantic (I’m paying that myself).
Who am I rowing for?
The Hospice (Malta) are a bunch of great people who provide
palliative care. They help people who have friends or relatives who suffer from
cancer and other end-of-life illnesses, such as respiratory, renal, liver and
cardiac, and make sure the patient is as comfortable as possible. They also
help families get through what is a very difficult time. Seeing them in action
was an inspiration for me to do something to help others.
The Swiss Cancer League has centres around Switzerland, my adoptive
home, and they provide information, advice and moral support to cancer
sufferers and their families. It’s amazing what they do, and both patients and
their families benefit immensly from their service, even if it’s just a
friendly voice at the other end of a phone call.
Terre des hommes is a Swiss NGO dedicated to helping and protecting
children in need worldwide. I’d like to do something to help kids who need
help. Specifically, the money raised will help kids in Syrian children
displaced by the war and living in the neighbouring countries Lebanon and
Jordan. A tiny contribution from many will help these kids have a childhood –
like most of us in the west have had. Now, more than ever, is a good time to
donate as in the past three months alone, more than half a million kids were displaced
because of the violence in Syria.
My goal is to collect €10,000 for each – it may be ambitious, but so is
rowing across an ocean. I’ll take care of the rowing – I hope that you help me
take care of the donations (don’t make me get down on my knees…).
There were a staggering 17 million new
cases of cancer reported in 2018, and an estimated 10 million die from the
illness annually. And the number is expected to increase.
This is why 4 February is World Cancer Day, a day in which to raise
awareness on and promote education about cancer to help save millions of preventable
deaths.
I can safely assume that everyone
reading this has had someone – a partner, friend, brother, sister, mother,
father, neighbour, colleague, or relative – who has or had cancer. And we’ve
all lost loved ones to the illness.
Often, people beat cancer. Too many
people, however, don’t make it.
Nearly two years ago, my brother passed
away after battling a brain tumour for what seemed like an eternity. To honour
his life, I will be rowing across the Atlantic Ocean – a 6,000km trip – to raise
funds for charity.
The charities* include the Swiss
Cancer League. Their centres around Switzerland provide information,
advice and moral support to cancer sufferers and their families. It’s amazing
what they do, and both patients and their families benefit immensly from their
service.
These videos can help you understand how people with cancer view their
work:
Long version
Short version
I’ll also be rowing for the Hospice
Malta. The Hospice helps people who have friends or relatives who suffer from
cancer and other end-of-life illnesses, such as respiratory, renal, liver and
cardiac, and make sure the patient is as comfortable as possible.
The World Cancer Day is a call to
action for everyone to take action, however small, to make a positive change.
If interested, you can visit my
website – www.crossrower.ch – to make donation
(a link for a donation to the Swiss Cancer League will soon be available). I
strongly encourage you to do so. If not, please go to your preferred charity
and give them whatever you can – every little helps.
One dark and wet November evening, just over one year ago, a mundane
decision kicked off what is most likely to be one of the biggest and hardest
challenges I’ll ever face – both mentally and physically.
First, I’ll take a few steps back to February two years ago when my
brother Mike passed away.
Like most in a similar position, the events of that Saturday morning
left a deep impact on me. I was left with an unfillable void. As I was saying
my final farewells to Mike, I decide that I had to do something in his honour,
and in the process help organisation who do so much work to help others in
their time of need.
The only problem was I had no idea what to do.
Fast forward to November 2018.
While looking for a TV programme to help me with my German, I stumbled
across a film with four Swiss guys rowing across an ocean. Rowing an ocean.
Bloody crazy.
The Swiss Motion team were packed onto an eight-metre by 1.5-metre boat
and in just over 30 days they rowed nearly 5,000km (3,000 nautical miles)
across the Atlantic Ocean.
Swiss Motion competed in the Talisker Whiskey
Atlantic Challenge – this year, 35 teams are competing. Not sure if
it’s a record, but it’s quite a lot.
The 2019 edition is currently underway and the first team is expected to make landfall right now.
I can’t do the Talisker Atlantic Challenge just yet – it’s beyond my financial means. But I decided to row the Atlantic anyway. I’m joining adventurer Ralph Tuijn (photo above, left) on a trip from Faro in Portugal to Cayenne in French Guiana in South America.
It’s a 6,000km trip where a team of six – including me – will row 24
hours a day, two hours on and two off. The aim is to reach our destination in
less than 48 days. The current record for this stretch is 48 days, 4 hours and
30 minutes.
It’s one of the toughest challenges there are, and to break the record,
we will need lady luck to be on our side with good trade winds and fair
weather.
I have been preparing for this challenge for just over a year. I’ll
also be joining my local rowing club to get as much on the water time as
possible. Until now, I have done around 2.3 million metres, but all on an
indoor rower.
The actual trip across the Atlantic leaves Portugal on 1 March 2021 and
I hope to get to South America by 16 April 2021 – the day before my brother’s
birthday.
This is significant because I will be collecting money for charity in
my brother’s honour, among others. For more information, please visit my
website: www.crossrower.ch
