BY JULIAN MCHARDY

Ever since he’d read John Ridgway and Chay Blyth’s book on rowing the Atlantic as a young boy, Julian had wanted to do the same. So, when he discovered that Chay Blyth would be tackling the Atlantic again, he signed up. With three years to go until the race – and after clearing it with his wife Miranda – Julian got to work.

The only person that agreed to take to the ocean with him was his former colleague, Mark Williams, whom he met while they were both serving as the Queen’s Own Highlanders. The duo trained hard(ish) for two years which was necessary because – apart from Julian rowing Loch Ness when he was at school – neither of them had ever rowed before.

Because it was a race, all competing boats had to be the same. They were designed specifically for ocean crossings, were made from a mix of 6mm and 9mm plywood, and came in dismantled kit form. Here, Julian talks us through everything he gets frequently asked by people once they’ve learned that he’s crossed the Atlantic – look out for some serious gems.

The question I get asked most is about going to the loo. And no, I don’t mean for a quick pee. The solution was simple and one that we learnt to live with: fill a bucket with 4 inches of sea water, and then ‘bucket and chuckit’. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s move onto the actual race.

It was always just the two of us in the boat. And apart from the very start and the very end of the race, only one of us rowed at any given time. We worked two hours on, two hours off, for 24 hours a day. The whole crossing was roughly 3,200 miles. It took us 63 days and we finished in 18th place out of a starting grid of 38 boats. Not bad for two guys who had never really rowed…

For the entire 63 days, we ate freeze dried food. Our water came from using a desalination machine which worked on a battery that was charged by a solar panel. We navigated our way across the Atlantic by compass and GPS, with the occasional help from the sun and stars. At night time, the stars would be visible from one horizon to another, like an umbrella. Shooting stars were common and would sometimes start from near the bottom of the horizon and shoot upwards like a firework. Stars were yellow, green, white, and blue and made rowing at night an absolute pleasure – apart from the times when it was pitch black and the sea turned mountainous. That was terrifying.

We saw whales, turtles, sharks, and fish throughout the crossing. We used to be hit by flying fish in the night and had to clear the deck of dead flying fish every morning. Once, a butterfly landed on my T-shirt when the nearest point of land was over 1,000 miles away. It stayed for 5 minutes before taking off and flying away.

We endured a horrific storm on our very first night. We both locked ourselves in the cabin and prayed while it passed. After that, we knew we could survive terrible storms so we were less frightened. We had some days where the seas were flat and calm, without even a ripple. Days like that were so hot that it felt like we were rowing through mercury.

We had no communication on board apart from a small radio with which we could talk to passing ships. It took about 15 minutes from seeing a ship appear on the horizon to it being level with us, and then a further 15 minutes to disappear out of sight. Despite being able to communicate with these ships, none of them ever said they could see us – either on their radar or through their binoculars.

Our backsides were permanently covered in sores, despite sitting on sheepskin and applying liberal handfuls of Sudocrem. Scabs would just start to heal after 2 hours of rest, only to burst again when you started your shift. After we arrived in Barbados, I couldn’t sit down comfortably for 3 days.

We smelt land several hours before we could see it, and it was a glorious and unforgettable smell even though we were not 100% sure it was Barbados that crept over the horizon! After we arrived, we had to go through passport control. Luckily we had kept our passports in watertight bags in sealed lockers because if we hadn’t had them, I’m not sure what immigration control would have actually done – there were 2 wives and seven children desperate for a hug!

Neither of us thought we’d lost any weight, but Mark actually lost 2.5 stone and I lost 2. And yes, we’re still good friends today – several teams I knew arrived in Barbados and never spoke to each other again!

And before you ask, no, I wouldn’t do it again. It was much harder on my wife and children than it was on me, and for that reason I wouldn’t. And the fate of my boat? It was named MCLLAID after the initials of both Mark and my children. I sold it to someone who rowed the Atlantic in 2003 and then he went on to sell it to someone else who rowed it across the Atlantic twice. It was then bought by a Dutchman who rowed halfway across the Atlantic before giving up. The boat was photographed bobbing about in the ocean having been stripped of its electronics. A sad end!