Last September, Colin Angus and fiancée Julie Wafaei set off from Lisbon on a quest to row across the Atlantic. After 121 days, they made their first landfall on St. Lucia, where they replenished supplies and rested for 12 days before resuming their journey to Costa Rica. Now, after more than five months, their final destination is within reach.
Our course from the Caribbean island of St. Lucia to Costa Rica ran through a section of the Caribbean Sea notorious for high winds and extremely large, powerful waves. A sailor we met warned us that this region, 300 kilometres northwest of the Colombian coast, is listed as one of the world's 10 most dangerous expanses of water.
As we entered this blow belt, I was not surprised as conditions began to deteriorate in the face of rising winds. As an added precaution, while we were in St. Lucia, Julie and I increased our boat's freshwater ballast to reduce our chances of capsizing. We also secured a large buoyant fender to our roll bar to assist in self-righting if we did flip.
The wind increased to 55 knots and our tiny vessel was assaulted by 10-metre breaking waves. Despite our previous encounters with two hurricanes and two tropical storms, it was soon apparent that these were the worst conditions we had encountered during our five months on the Atlantic.
All our loose gear was secured, and Julie and I would take turns outside steering the boat with the rudder. It was far too rough to row and our efforts were simply to keep the boat pointed down the waves to reduce the chances of capsizing. Often, breaking waves would hit us with what seemed like the force of an explosion and send us surfing down the face of the wall of water at terrifying speeds. Our GPS clocked our fastest surfing speeds at 20 kilometres per hour.
Nighttime was even more terrifying as the diffused light gave way to inky blackness. Too tired to steer, Julie and I huddled in our double-coffin-sized cabin, among soggy blankets, and stifling heat listening to the shrieking winds and thundering waves. We were slammed around relentlessly as our quarter-inch plywood vessel was repeatedly engulfed in whitewater.
Miraculously, the boat did not capsize, and four days after we entered the region, the winds began to abate. Our spirits were buoyed as we were able to resume normal rowing toward Costa Rica.
We were less than 100 nautical miles from our destination and the weather forecast was looking good. If all goes well, by the time you read this, we will have arrived at Limon, Costa Rica's eastern port.
With 10,000 kilometres of treacherous ocean behind us, and our final landfall so close, a quiet feeling of accomplishment accompanied each oar stroke this week.
Completing the first row in history from Europe to continental North America is not the end of our journey. Julie and I will trade our boat for bicycles and pedal 7,500 kilometres back to Vancouver, where our adventure began.
This final leg will take us through a smorgasbord of visual delights, as we huff and puff through Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala, Mexico, and finally up the West Coast of the United States.
For more information, visit www.expeditioncanada.com.
