EWAN

Now was the chance. The easing conditions that met us in the early morning, an hour before sunrise, was the sign we had been waiting for.

From 5:30am, we broke into shifts of 1 hour on the oars followed by 30 minutes of rest, keeping two rowers on the oars at all times and pointed the boat westward.

The days prior had prevented this more direct routing due to high wind and waves pushing our little boat North, oftentimes with the deck being engulfed by cresting waves passing over the boat as we fought our way through the weather. Every mile we conceded towards the equator, however, would mean a mile we’d then need to claw back in the days to come - possibly under less favourable circumstances - and our already gargantuan journey had been growing in distance.

Rowing like this was hard graft, although with the small respite from the weather, this was the best way for us to punch through the remaining beamy sea state and try to take the rhumb line for the Marquesas islands.

Shortly before lunchtime I made an attempt to clear the stern locker of all the spares and miscellaneous items we had brought for minor adjustments and repairs whilst underway. My intention was to locate the water system spares, so we could adjust things slightly and make producing water on deck less precarious and frustrating. Our current situation requires the cabin hatch to be open with an awkward lean into the control panel to press the water pump switch if we want water whilst on deck.

After about 20 minutes, I had successfully filled the bunk with the entire contents of the stern locker and then, at the peak of the mess I had created, became incapacitated with seasickness. Being inside the cabin with the horizon being lost from view for too long was a good way to bring this on. Several hours later I managed to muster up the energy to force myself back into the hot, cramped cabin for the clean up.

Night fell and we were plunged into darkness, without a moon to brighten our surroundings. During the final changeover, as Jamie and Lachlan were heading for their bunks, I jolted the upper Starboard safety line whilst moving up the boat, somehow dislodging the carabiner holding the toilet bucket. It dropped off the side of the boat into the water below. I dived to my knees to grab it, but my fingers merely brushed the hard plastic side, and I watched it swirl off into the darkness. In vain we tried to stop the boat, to turn back and rescue our bucket, but nowhere could it be seen.

Dismayed, we bid each other goodnight and headed once more into the night shifts.

At least we have a spare bucket.