Salt, Sweat, Tears: The Men Who Rowed the Oceans - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Adam Rackley is a former Platoon Commander with the British Army, has worked as a fund manager, and lectures on finance at the BPP Business School. Salt, Sweat, Tears is his first book.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Adam Rackley was born in the Netherlands in 1981. He studied at the University of York and received a degree in finance and financial law from the University of London. He was a platoon commander with the Black Watch at Fort George in Scotland before working as a fund manager and lecturing on finance at BPP Business School. He lives in South London with his wife, Alice. Salt, Sweat, Tears is Rackley’s first book.

Equipment on a Modern Ocean Rowing Boat

Glossary

AIS – Automatic Identification System. A system which shares information between vessels within a short range of each other over the VHF radio system. AIS information can be programmed to display on a vessel’s GPS screen.

ARGOS – Satellite beacon-system which can be used to track vessels anywhere in the world.

Autohelm – GPS-controlled steering system.

Backstops – The point at the end of a rower’s stroke when the legs are fully extended, shoulders are back and the handles of the oars are pulled back towards the chest.

Beam sea – Waves coming in to the side of a boat. A beam sea may cause a boat to rock violently or capsize.

Bow – The front of the boat. Rowers face away from the direction of travel and so row with their backs to the bow.

Bow rowing position – The foremost rowing position in the boat. The rower in the bow seat steers the boat using a footplate which is linked to the rudder by steering lines.

Cam cleat – Spring-loaded mechanism which uses friction to stop a rope pulling through in one direction, but allows the rope to move freely when being pulled in the opposite direction.

Cleat – Fitting onto which a rope can be tied off.

Dory – Small, flat-bottomed fishing boat.

Draught – Vertical distance between a boat’s waterline and the keel.

Drogue – A funnel-shaped device deployed underwater from the bow or stern of a boat to keep her facing into the weather, reducing the likelihood of capsizing and slowing her drift.

EPIRB – Emergency Position-Indicating Rescue Beacon. A small device mounted on the outside of a boat that is activated manually or after prolonged submersion in seawater in order to request a rescue. The EPIRB sends a satellite message and emits a radio signal, allowing rescuers to pinpoint the boat’s location.

Gunwale – Top edge of the side of a boat. On a rowing boat this is a flat surface for sitting on, jumping off, or pulling yourself back into the boat after a swim.

Keel – ‘Spine’ of a boat, running along the length of its hull. A deep keel reduces the effect of the wind and swell, allowing the boat to hold its course more easily, while also making the boat more stable by lowering its centre of gravity.

Knots – A knot is one nautical mile per hour.

Nautical mile – A measure of distance used by mariners equivalent to one minute of arc at the equator. (There are sixty minutes of arc in one degree.) One nautical mile is equivalent to 1.15 land miles.

Port – The left-hand side of the boat when facing in the direction of travel.

RIB – Rigid Inflatable Boat.

Sea anchor – Parachute that opens under water to keep the boat facing into the oncoming weather. This reduces the likelihood of capsizing and slows the boat’s drift.

Slide – Narrow track that the rower’s sliding seat rolls along. The seat runs on four small wheels.

Starboard – The right-hand side of the boat when facing in the direction of travel.

Stern – The back of the boat. Rowers face away from the direction of travel and so row facing the stern.

Stroke rowing position – The rearmost rowing position in the boat. Called the ‘stroke’ position because the rower in the stroke seat sets the tempo of the rowing stroke for the rest of the boat.

Two-up – Both members of an ocean-rowing pair on the oars at the same time, as opposed to one crew member rowing and the other resting.

Prologue

The packet contains fifty-six jelly beans in six different flavours. I remove a bean and inspect it closely. I try to imagine what it will taste like, before putting it in my mouth. There is a tightening along the inside of my jaw and the bottom of my tongue as my taste buds respond to the tanginess of the sweet. I roll it around my mouth, savouring the flavour and the changing texture as the hard, smooth shell dissolves, leaving the soft, thick centre. For a while this sticks to my teeth and the roof of my mouth, but soon the residue has dispersed and I am left with a lingering sweetness. I repeat this exercise fifty-five times.

In an hour the jelly beans are gone and I feel a sense of loss. In my hand is the empty packet, which I now consider closely. I reread the list of ingredients and look at the branding and the manufacturer’s address. I study the picture of each flavour of jelly bean and try to remember what it tasted like. I become aware that I am running my tongue across my teeth and in the cracks between them, looking for a crumb to savour.

From the angle I am lying at, it is possible to look out through a thin opening in the main hatch at a slice of cloudless, ethereal blue. My mind leaves the stimulation of the last hour behind and drifts in the empty sky. I’m reminded of a line from a book I once read. ‘Whither are we moving? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space?’

Every few seconds I feel the gentle, rhythmic acceleration as Jimmy drives on the oars. My ears are filled with the trickle of water on the hull of the boat, the splash of the oars, the roll of the sliding seat and the occasional creak of an oar gate. My view of the deck, through the perspex hatch, is blocked by a towel, which serves to keep the sun out of the cabin. But the air inside is still and the heat is oppressive.

I look at my watch. It reads 15:51. My watch is set to GMT, which means it is nearly 1 PM local time. This is the hottest part of the day. There are less than nine minutes until my next shift. I think through the things I must do before I am ready to take over from Jimmy on the oars. A muffled gasp from the deck reminds me that he is in a great deal of pain.

I shuffle around so that I am now sitting up, with my feet in the footwell, in front of the hatch. I slide my feet into a pair of red Crocs and open one of my water bottles. It is almost full. I pour in the remaining half of my isotonic powder packet. From the netting on my right I pull out my white legionnaire’s hat. Inside the hat are my sunglasses. I put both on. I pull the towel off the hatch and stow it in the overhead netting. Sun streams into the cabin and almost immediately I start to sweat. I unwind the cord which has been keeping the hatch ajar, and swing the hatch open.

Jimmy is sitting five feet away, facing me. He is wearing a hat and sunglasses that match mine and a pair of fingerless yellow DeWalt gloves. Black hair and a thick black and reddish beard of almost the same length cover his head and much of his face. When he sees me he pulls his right earphone out, without breaking his stroke.

‘How’s it going, Jim?’ I ask.

‘Feels like good rowing conditions, but the mileage isn’t great. I think there’s a current. We’ve done three miles. Is it hot in the cabin?’

The water is...