Crossing the swell : an Atlantic journey by rowboat by Holmes Tori

Author:Holmes, Tori
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gleeson, Paul, 1976 or 1977- -- Travel -- North Atlantic Ocean, Holmes, Tori -- Travel -- North Atlantic Ocean, 1976 ou 7 -- Voyages -- Atlantique Nord, Tori -- Voyages -- Atlantique Nord, Tori, Rowing -- North Atlantic Ocean, Transatlantic voyages, Aviron -- Atlantique Nord, Voyages transatlantiques, Rowing, Travel, North Atlantic Ocean
ISBN: 9781897522530
Publisher: Surrey, BC : Rocky Mountain Books
Published: 2009-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 16

Seasick

Tori.

I yelled over my shoulder to Paul to pick up the pace. The rolling swell pushed at us as we attempted to keep up with the world-class rowers. I was sitting in position one, at the stern of the boat, and it was the first time I had used the rudder, which steered the boat. One of the women from Mission Atlantic shouted out, “Bearing 240!” I had no clue what she was talking about - how was she going to keep an exact bearing? The way the rudder worked, when I pushed forward with my right foot the boat turned to my left; push with my left and it went right. I was having trouble getting this into my head. We were only ten minutes into the race and we had already almost collided with one of the other teams. I tried to correct and went straight for them instead. We were literally zigzagging off the start line.

The adrenaline was unbelievable. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins and my heart pounding like a drum. The rolling swell was about 2 metres deep but felt like 7. It was the biggest we had ever seen. As the waves came toward the boat, we paddled as hard as we could, trying to surf them. At first we tried to race the other boats; it was not long before we lost sight of them. We were really racing the waves. The water was absolutely beautiful. I was in control of my surroundings and positive about what lay ahead of me.

Exactly three hours into the race, Paul let out a small moan from the back of the boat. In a shaky voice he said, “I am not feeling that great.” I said, “Oh, come on, you will be grand, just do not think about it.” Two seconds later Paul’s face turned a mossy shade of green. This was like something you see in cartoons but not in real life. I thought his head was going to explode; he projectile-vomited over the side of the boat. I would say every person within five miles heard Paul’s heaving. Sweat coursed down his forehead and saliva dripped out of his mouth. He clenched himself into the foetal position, his head on the gunwales. His body went limp, as though the

life had just been ripped out of him. It disturbed me to see Paul in such a vulnerable state.

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