News

In mid-September, Colin Angus and fiancée Julie Wafaei set off from Lisbon on a quest to row across the Atlantic. In this, the third in a series of regular update s, Angus reports on the 69th day o f their adventure.

Julie and I had planned on celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving with a special dinner. Unfortunately, Hurricane Vince put a damper on our plans. The most northeastern-forming cyclone in history came within 95 nautical miles of our rowboat, and we ate nothing but crackers and cookies as waves crashed over the vessel.

We decided that we would celebrate American Thanksgiving instead with the most splendid meal a couple of rowers could muster up after more than two months at sea. The day before our planned feast, a friend of ours gave us bad news over the satellite phone. Tropical storm Delta was building strength 700 nautical miles to the northwest and was heading straight for us. It was expected to upgrade to hurricane upon reaching warmer waters.

We spent Thanksgiving Day readying the boat for the upcoming tempest. Inner hatches were screwed shut, safety equipment made handy, and life rafts inspected. Our vessel is very seaworthy, but if the storm hit, we expected the boat to roll over repeatedly. One of the greatest dangers during a roll is injuries from being smashed around in the tiny cabin. As a precaution, we padded the interior with clothing and life jackets. Once we felt the boat was ready for the storm, Julie and I decided that we would proceed with our dinner regardless of the weather.

As the swells grew larger, I hooked a gleaming 12-pound dorado. Julie cut the fillets into thin strips, breaded them with flour and spices, fried them in olive oil and served them on a bed of rice along with canned tomatoes and olives. Dessert was tea and a precious can of lychee fruit. We ignored the waves buffeting our boat and instead savoured the long-anticipated meal. Four days later, tropical storm Delta veered northeast and the eye passed 600 kilometres to the north of us. Once again, we had been spared.

That's not to say we haven't had some excitement over the past weeks — and not just from the weather. Late one night, while Julie slept and I was lost in thought at the oars, there was a meaty slap on the back of my head.

“Are you okay, honey?” Julie asked groggily, unsure if my terrified cry was dreamed or real.

A flip-flopping noise beside the sliding rowing seat betrayed the culprit: a flying fish. I scrambled in the darkness, trying to grab the trout-sized creature, but the potential breakfast flipped through a scupper and back into the sea.

Then, not many days ago, we woke one morning to what sounded like a battering ram assaulting the bottom of our plywood vessel. Upon investigation, we discovered the granddaddy of hawksbill turtles, with a shell almost two metres wide thumping against our boat.

Unlike dozens of smaller turtles we have sighted, this ancient animal showed no sign of fear after scrutinizing us. Instead, it continued its leisurely diving under our boat and pounding the bottom with its head or shell.

After filming and photographing the beast, we began to worry that it might damage the boat. I tried to shoo off the creature by gently grabbing one of its flippers, hoping to scare it. The interaction seemed to have the opposite effect, and after giving me another unblinking stare, the turtle came closer, allowing me to invert it to examine its hard underplate. Julie climbed behind the oars and pulled hard to make a getaway; if our guest wouldn't leave us, we would leave it. The turtle made a few strokes in pursuit before venturing off in another direction, perhaps to look for a lover who wouldn't play so hard to get.

For more information, visit www.expeditioncanada.com.