If you hang around long enough with ocean rowers, and find that you've developed a taste for expedition rowing (albeit in events you can fit into a weekend), sooner or later you're going to come to the conclusion that, if your piggy bank can cope, there's really no good reason NOT to row an ocean yourself.
And so it was that my husband and I set off from the Canary Islands in our tiger-striped boat, and landed in Barbados nearly 11 weeks later. Along the way, we'd lost a rudder, been brought another, seen dolphins for 30 seconds, enjoyed eating biltong in bed (only one of us), listened to all seven Harry Potter books, and been reminded almost every day that ocean rowing is much more about the ocean than it is about rowing.
