Crossing the Swell: An Atlantic Journey by Rowboat
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In 2003, Tori and Paul met in Australia when Holmes answered an ad to drive the support vehicle for Gleeson's 2,982.5 miles cycling trek across that country. During their first adventure together, Gleeson fell hard: both off his bike and for the woman driving the car.Once Australia was behind them, it became clear that crossing a continent together was simply not enough. Acting on self-assured determination and an ever-growing sense of adventure, Gleeson and Holmes embraced the dream of rowing a tiny boat across the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean in the 2005/2006 Trans-Atlantic Race.In November 2005, after months of training, Paul and Tori left the Canary Islands to row 4,800 kilometres across the Atlantic. In February 2006, they completed their epic journey after 86 days of huge seas, violent storms, terrifying capsizes, unbearable thirst, bizarre hallucinations and sleep deprivation.Part inspirational adventure story, part travelogue and part romance, Crossing the Swell is an honest and intimate portrayal of what it takes to truly engage in the many adventures that life has to offer.
was performing in a rodeo, not rowing a boat. The Water-maker The water-maker works by extracting the salt out of seawater, making it drinkable. It takes 99 per cent of the salt out of the water. To make ten litres of fresh water the water-maker takes in approximately 100 litres of seawater, spits 90 litres back out and retains ten litres of filtered water. The seawater is sucked in through the inlet hole and passes through a sea strainer, which is to prevent seaweed and any other loose debris
barely stomach my ready-made porridge. With every bite I could feel the porridge fuel my body while my stomach attempted to reject it. “Mind over matter, mind over matter,” I kept telling myself. I was trying to convince myself I did not have seasickness. Possibly I was starting to feel sick just because I was seeing Paul so ill. Paul only managed to eat half of his meals, I did not know what he was running on. Throughout the first day we rowed our two-hour shifts up until midnight. I could see
strength. As I curled up in the cabin I found myself resorting to the foetal position. Maybe this was a subconscious comfort position. I held the letter tight to my chest. I read the words I knew would push me across this ocean: [You] know just how proud we are of the great success, values and accomplishments of our children. Both your brother and yourself, mother and I have insisted that you think on your own, gain and use knowledge wisely and keep your eyes open to the world…You have both
bag of tricks. I took a letter from our goody bag. It was from Bevan Cantrell, one of Paul’s best friends, written before we came out, before Bevan lost his mother. The letter was so encouraging for Paul–Bevan was so behind him, said he really believed he could achieve what he aimed for. It was amazing what a little support could do to boost the psyche. I was delighted with my choice of letter. I rewarded Paul for his better mood with a picture from the goody bag of his dog Rhapsey, who died
finish line at Bondi Beach that day. World Vision said there would be television cameras. It was going to be a good day. It was also going to be a very painful one. I was on the Princess Highway, only 10 kilometres from the finish, when I heard the screeching of brakes. A car smashed into me from behind and sent me flying over the handlebars. I landed hard on my left side, broke a bone in my left hand and couldn’t really feel my arm and shoulder. But I didn’t think this was too bad. An ambulance