Expeditions are normally crammed with new experiences. New places, people, sights and sounds. Your mind fills with precious new memories.

But this row is different. Its power comes more from all that is absent. (In that sense it feels more like a spell in a mediaeval monastery than an adventure – sleep deprivation, rigid routine, rubbish food). Most of our talk and daydreams out here are about what we do not have, rather than what we are experiencing now. Friends and family, long nights’ sleep, pretty girls and fresh food…

I do not yet know how this trip will affect me in the long term. My guess is that the short term struggle of these two months will fade and what will remain is a sense of how ridiculously small and unimportant we are out on this massive, massive ocean. That, plus a better perspective on what really does and does not matter to me out there in the real world. And I hope that the drastic absence of so much out here makes me always as grateful and appreciative as I was this morning:

..to celebrate dipping below 2000 miles to Barbados, Marin emerged from the hatch with four thin slices of salami (our one bit of nice food: thank you SO MUCH David Bardic) and a surprise of a mini BabyBel cheese, sliced carefully into quarters. I took my portion with delighted thanks. I stopped rowing to savour this treat. I lay back in my seat and sniffed the meat and cheese. And when I ate it I almost burst into tears. This probably says more about the state I am in than about the marvels of processed cheese, but I hope I can retain the appreciation and gratitude for nice things when I am back in the real world.

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I hope to post a blog post or an audio update once or twice a week during the 3000 mile row to Barbados…

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Tonight (it is 2.15am as I write this) is the last night I can enjoy the comfort of my own bed for a couple of months. A pity then that there is no chance I will complete my To-Do list and get any sleep tonight.

So I will keep this brief.

I am off to row across the Atlantic Ocean. I will be back home in early March. I decided not to schedule any blog posts to cover the time I am away.

Instead I have set up a system to post blog entries remotely from the ocean. I will probably write these roughly every four days. I will also leave audio updates via our satellite phone. There is, of course, a good chance that the Atlantic Ocean may not permit this tomfoolery! But I shall try my best…

If you want to read the thoughts of my three team mates or see our latest position on a map then please also visit transatlantic2012.com. (Also dip in if new content stops appearing here.)

I’m also trying to raise £1 per mile for Hope and Homes for Children and I’d love your support!
Please Text OBUL72 £5 to 70070 or visit www.justgiving.com/AtlanticRow2012 to donate. Thank you.

That leads me, finally, to say that although I’m away rowing the Atlantic, the Night Of Adventure series is carrying on. The next London event is in February, hosted by the enigmatic Dave Cornthwaite. I hope you will go along if you are in London: http://bit.ly/w4fCAA

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The last time I put to sea was with an injured soldier. Phil and I rowed together from England to France. Written on the boat were the words “Dedication is What You Do When Nobody is Watching”. It’s a saying that will serve me well crossing the Atlantic.

There will be four of us out there, thousands of miles from land in a little pea green boat. Two hours of rowing, two hours break, two hours rowing. Repeat for as long as it takes to strike land on the far side. We anticipate that will be somewhere between 45 and 60 days.

If you are rowing solo the equations are very simple: row harder = go faster. Rest and relax = stay still. The choice is yours. You will only reach the end when you have earned the end. In a team of four it is different. There is scope to not pull with all your might. You can not bother to repair something because someone else will do it eventually. You can give less than your all and still reach the finish line.

I know that at times I will be tired or demoralised. My arse will hurt (indeed I am still in a lot of pain from this) and the end will seem far off. I will be at sea with three virtual strangers. I know that our bond will grow into a strong team willing to help each other and work hard for each other. But before we arrive at that stage my motivation must really just be for myself. To do the job properly, to arrive on the far side satisfied that I gave my all and not to have any lingering feelings that I took the easy route at any time.

The video below is an excellent demonstration of this idea. Put your heart and soul into what you do, at all times, everywhere. Dance like nobody’s watching.

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Ahhhhh…. The end-of-year hatching-of-plans. I love it. 2011’s Year of Microadventure has been a positive surprise in many ways, but I can’t deny being excited about escaping this sceptred isle once again for far-flung adventures.

My priority remains the South Pole. It’s been a frustrating, depressing experience trying to get to Antarctica, but our preparation is better than ever. We’ve got such a good team involved (photographer and hard man Martin Hartley has joined us, as has talented videographer Temujin Doran) that I know the whole expedition package (trek, book, images, film, education) will be brilliant if we can only get ourselves to the start line.

But I am also keen to pack in one other big trip in 2012. For a few years now I have been trying to launch a desert expedition, a camel journey through the Empty Quarter inspired by the magnificent Wilfred Thesiger. I’ve been accumulating knowledge, chatting to experts and sniffing around permit problems for Saudi and Yemen. For lots of reasons though I have not been successful. Finally, I decided to cut all the complications and camels and just do it all by myself. My plan, in brief, was to fill a massive cart with water and drag it across a desert. A physically tough challenge, a brand new environment, an amazing experience of solitude in the footsteps of one of my heroes, and perfect strength training for the South Pole: it ticked a lot of boxes.

So at last the desert plan was coming together nicely. I was ready for waves of empty sand rolling on to the horizon. Dreaming of greenery and fresh food. A silent, sterile, pure world far from the frustrations of real life.

And then I received an email from somebody I had never met.
“Do you want to row across the Atlantic Ocean? We leave in six weeks…”

Wow! I thought of those empty waves rolling on to the horizon. Dreaming of greenery and fresh food. A silent, sterile, pure world far from the frustrations of real life. It sounded exactly what I was after.

I burned the midnight oil: getting just 3-5 hours of sleep a night buys you a lot of extra hours in your day. I finished writing my book then jumped on a plane to Slovenia. I wanted to meet the mystery emailer face-to-face. The Atlantic Ocean is a very large place to be with someone you don’t like, don’t trust, don’t respect.

But Marin and I got on well and I agreed to join his 4-man crew. Suddenly I found myself at a press conference in the VIP suite of the ten-pin bowling alley in the local shopping centre telling Slovenian television why I had always wanted to row the Atlantic Ocean. There were rows of microphones on the table, spotlights on our faces and even those little triangles of cardboard with our names on, like you see at the United Nations. It all appealed tremendously to my enjoyment of the absurd.

There have been times in the last couple of years when I have come very close to swapping what I do for a normal job and normal life. It is so frustrating at times: scrabbling unsuccessfully for sponsors, books not selling as well as I feel they should and insufficient time to tackle projects to the level I demand of myself.

But to be planning a desert crossing one week and an ocean crossing the next is what keeps me persevering. It is more than the pleasant position of doing fun stuff like this for my “job”. The real satisfaction comes from having the freedom to live spontaneously and be able to pursue opportunities and ideas.

We put to sea at the beginning of January.
More to follow.

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