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The silver lining to all this is that my kids will get to celebrate Christmas twice.
Charlie and Otto did the maths and proudly announced, “we can have a fake Christmas but with real presents!”
Why?
Because on Sunday I’ll be heading to La Gomera in the Canary Islands to meet up with BeHatty, my ocean-rowing boat.
Twelve days later, assuming I pass the compliance inspection, I’ll begin the 3,000-mile row across the Atlantic.
The boat left three weeks ago on a container ship, bouncing its way across land and sea, which has given me a rare window of calm.
Less planning, fewer moving parts, and a bit of space to reflect.
Nearly all of my family and friends, except for one lone optimist, thought this was a mad idea.
And to be fair, I’ve done plenty to prove them right.
Looking back, during my preparation, I definitely pushed myself too hard at times.
The worse the weather, the more determined I was to get out there.
But the sea, I’ve learned the hard way, is not something you “take on” and beat.
The accident on Boxing Day 2023 could easily have been fatal, and grounding the boat twice caused different kinds of damage, both to the vessel and to my confidence.
Yet with each setback, I’ve built competency. Not enough to ever feel fully “ready” — I don’t believe that exists — but enough to feel more resilient than I was a year ago, and prepared for what’s ahead.
My prediction, I'll learn more in the first week than I have in the last three years.
But I have enough respect now for the training process and the environment I’m going into.
One big difference between the British coastline and the open ocean is space.
Out at sea, tides are gentler and there’s room to manoeuvre.
Around Britain, centuries of sailors have learned just how unforgiving those coastal waters of ours can be, and I'm no different.
Those tight, tidal waters are where most of my hardest lessons have been learned, reminders of how quickly things can turn and why I’m heading into the Atlantic with a healthy respect for what lies ahead.
My plan is to write once a week and give you the honest version, not the polished one, of what this really feels like.
I am grateful to all of you for following me on this journey. Thank you, genuinely, for the support and encouragement.
I’ll see you in La Gomera.
