Chapter 9

Ocean Next 6 , 000 Kilometres

The journey of a thousand leagues

begins with a single step

Proverb

How are you feeling today, my little ocean-rowing girl? Ric was looking at me intently. I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head so I could see him properly.

Pretty good, I smiled back as I sculled with the oars to keep Dippers pointing into the waves. Shall I row back in or do you want to tow me? We were just outside the harbour mouth, I was rowing Dippers and Ric was with a photographer in another boat. He looked serious and said that he had to tell me something before I made that decision. My mind leapt on to the alert had I just said something really stupid? Would I be rowing against an outgoing tide or ?

How do you fancy going rowing in twenty-four hours? The weather is looking great for tomorrow morning.

I was silenced. My eyebrows shot up my forehead into a surprised arch and I grinned the wide gummy grin that I always do when I am nervous or excited. My stomach had just knotted itself and I clenched my teeth into gridlock, looking inward at the cacophony of emotion which had just burst out of nowhere. I was going rowing. I looked up at him and nodded, trying my best to look composed and serious. Well, if you say its good, then its good for me, too.

We hooked up the tow and their boat pulled out to the length of the line, leaving me to calm my little storm and think of the Final List of Things to Do before tomorrow morning. The list was huge and the clock was now ticking fast really fast.

I leaned back against my cabin hatch and closed my eyes to the sun, trying to comprehend what was about to happen and willing the gentle waves to soothe me. This was a big day. A definitive day: my life was about to change forever as I rowed into a whole new era. Before the row, after the row: that is how my timeline would read from this day onward. Life was about to get serious and very salty. Departure was agreed for 6 a.m. the next morning and I floated on adrenaline. My appetite had disappeared and Ric kept pushing food my way, while also fending off enquiries and phone calls for me, telling me what I needed to do next and organising the willing helpers.

We worked right through the night to complete everything, with help from club members, friends of friends and people I had never even met before. They were all part of the team now, keen to help and excited to be a part of the adventure. Some were unwittingly signed up to Team Sarah, having arrived for a sociable evening at the weekly club barbecue; thinking they could have a little chat to us as we worked at the boat, they found themselves carrying jerry cans away to fill with water, or were sent off in search of a paintbrush, a pair of nail scissors, a bailer perhaps. We emptied the boat, cleaned the boat, capsized the boat, packed the boat, sorted the gear, resorted the gear, repacked the boat, took delivery of all the food, sorted the food, resorted the food, constructed netting stowage in the forward cabin and turned Dippers into a reflective beacon with strips of shiny tape. At one point the pontoon was completely covered with piles of my stuff, leaving any bystanders bewildered by the notion of fitting it all away into Dippers , floating alongside. My attitude was that if it has to fit, it will. And it did, somehow, even though I would have to share my bed with two huge 100-litre bags filled with my food packets until I had eaten it all. Respite arrived with a trip to the supermarket and the chandlery there I was anonymous and free to wander aimlessly down the aisles, deciding on what extra provisioning I needed and whether my last few Aussie dollars would stretch to it. Certainly my bank balance would be very pleased to see me so many thousands of miles out to sea.

As the sunset rolled into darkness, Clem fixed up an outside light on the pontoon, and I left Ricardo and some others sorting the piles into different piles and packing the boat through the wee hours. I sat in the office, wired on fizzy drinks and nerves, making final phone calls to the UK, emailing sponsors and friends with goodbyes or instructions for various tasks. At 2.30 a.m. I climbed into Dippers for a couple of hours of rest. But how do you rest when youve got a butterfly brigade marching up and down shouting, Youre going! Youre going rowing!? I didnt sleep more than a few snatches; my mind was full of thoughts and fears, wanderings and wonderings, and my tired brain buzzed until Ric opened the cabin door to rouse me at 4.30.