The power of two
Issue #28
Canadian Colin Angus is the first person to circumnavigate the world using only human power. His partner, Julie Wafaei, joined the expedition for various portions, including 17,000 km by bicycle and 8,300 km by rowboat across the Atlantic Ocean, which wil
By Julie Wafaei
Published: June 1st, 2006 | 12:00am
From a blue-walled tent perched on the dry, cactus-scared land of the Mexican outback, I savoured the cool evening air, making amends for 12 hours of cycling under the scorching sun. Every day, for the last 19 days, we cycled from sunrise to sunset, riding 2600 km from Limon, Costa Rica, to here.
In the last nine months I have travelled from Moscow to Mexico using only a bicycle and rowboat, pedalling 8,000 km across two continents and rowing 10,000 km across the Atlantic Ocean. My goal is to travel halfway around the world, from Moscow to my home in Vancouver, Canada, using only human power. It is more than a personal challenge; it is a quest intended to promote no or low-emission transportation and raise awareness about climate change.
This dream grew from a passion with the outdoors and adventure as well as a need to challenge myself and push my own boundaries. At first, rowing thousands of kilometers across a volatile ocean seemed like an impossible dream. No woman had ever rowed across the entire Atlantic Ocean from mainland to mainland, and only a handful of men had. What made me think I could do it? I was a molecular biologist who worked in an office — not an extreme adventurer — and worst of all, I did not even know how to row. I knew I had the determination to succeed, but it took months of intensive training, research, and fundraising before my goal seemed remotely tangible. But then I faced a major setback. My partner, Cathy, decided that she did not want to row across the Atlantic.
It’s difficult to find the perfect partner for such a difficult, dangerous, and lengthy expedition, and close to impossible in a short time frame. I needed someone who was both mentally and physically strong and whom I could get along with for five months in a space the size of a large doghouse. Against all odds, the ideal solution materialized.
My fiance, Colin Angus, was on a gruelling expedition attempting the first human-powered circumnavigation of the world. Using nothing but a bicycle, rowboat, canoe, and skis, he hoped to travel 42,000 km around the entire planet. He started the expedition with a partner, but now they had parted ways and he, too, needed someone to row across the Atlantic with. The expedition would put unimaginable strains on our relationship and we worried about jeopardizing the harmonious union we had. But we preferred to believe that the challenges would bring us closer together.
CYCLING FROM MOSCOW, RUSSIA TO LISBON, PORTUGAL
In
July 2005, Colin and I left Moscow on Norco bikes ladened with
equipment for camping, cooking, filming, bike repairs, medical
emergencies, and navigation. We carried everything we needed for the
journey and to camp every night along our route. Even though we were
self-supported, our ride had to be fast. We were racing to Lisbon so
that we could depart in our rowboat before the dangerous stormy season
began.
The mosaic of Europe was enchanting but often the roads were unwelcoming to cyclists. Throughout Russia and the Ukraine, we travelled unhindered on the major highways. Motorists would frequently stop in interest, take our picture, and offer us gifts, ranging from spring water, fresh fruits, homemade foods, and even money. Affordable diners catering to truckers dotted the roadside and every meal was a pleasure with Cyrillic menus offering shaslik, borcht, pilmeni, numerous salads, and other delights. Rolling farmland rose into the breathtaking mountains of the Ukraine, dotted with perfect painstakingly created haystacks.
From the Ukraine we entered Hungary, where no cycling signs dominated the landscape and we were sidelined to heavily used tertiary roads without shoulders. Austria provided the balm to sooth our shattered nerves and we luxuriated in the motorist-free bike path following Europe’s second largest river, the Danube. After several hundred kilometres, we entered Germany and returned to the hectic world of heavy traffic and aggressive drivers. Switzerland was a brief relief and then France also offered some respite. France’s vineyards and old stone villages charmed us, while the hilly landscape that’s undoubtedly key in the training of Tour de France champions challenged us. We rode up into the clouds that tipped the Pyrenees mountains and into Spain. The Camino de Santiago path, a pilgrimage taken by thousands every year, flowed down the other side and led us to wide highways denied to us by so many other countries.
After 49 days and 5,400 km on scenic bike paths, dirt paths, rural roads, and busy highways, we traveled through nine countries to reach Lisbon, Portugal. From our bicycle seat we experienced each country in a unique way, visiting not only large cities and tourist destinations but rural towns and remote countryside that otherwise would be missed.
10,000 KM ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
There
was no time in Lisbon to celebrate our arrival. We were rushing against
the clock to prepare our rowboat for its five-month journey. I had
assessed and organized the purchase of the second hand boat in England
and from my inspection and the marine survey knew we would be busy with
repairs and upgrades. The boat was a 24-foot plywood vessel with two
sliding rowing seats outside and then a small cabin at the front and
back. In a whirlwind two weeks we overhauled the watermaker, repaired
minor structural faults, antifouled the hull, painted the boat, and
replaced many of the electronics.
Once we finished with the boat, we had to fill it with five months of food and anything else we might need. The cashiers at the grocery store gazed in wonder as we purchased hundreds of pounds of cookies, rice, instant potatoes, dried bread, powdered milk, and other non-perishable foods. We knew that our diet would be suboptimal and we relied on our lead sponsor, Truestar Health, to provide us with the nutritional supplements and vitamins to keep us strong. Also, we hoped that our fishing rod and speargun would put fresh fish on the menu.
On September 22, 2005, we rowed away from the harbour’s safety and into the large swell of the open Atlantic. For the first 10 days, we suffered from nausea and appetite loss brought on by the extreme rocking of such a small boat in rough weather. Finally the seasickness subsided and we fell into a regular routine. We rowed in two-hour shifts for 18-24 hours a day. When we weren’t rowing, we’d do other chores like cooking, making water using the desalinator, navigation, etc.
In the first two weeks we made excellent progress, rowing south with the currents and tradewinds. We travelled 1,100 km and were aiming to pass through the Canary Islands west of Africa. Suddenly the weather changed, the 10-20 km winds stopped, and the ocean became deadly calm. We rowed on its glassy surface for a couple more days, but then winds from the south began and the waves built. The sky was streaked with altocumulus and cirrus clouds, often predictors of hurricanes. But that was impossible. We were in a hurricane-free part of the Atlantic. Scientists have been tracking hurricanes for more than 100 years and there had never been one close to our location. They always occurred further west and in the warmer waters at more southerly latitudes, areas we would be venturing into but only after the hurricane season passed. Using our Iridium satellite phone, we received a message that confirmed our impossible fear — my father’s tired and cracked voice: “Julie, there’s a hurricane on the Atlantic and it’s very close to you.”
The winds howled and the waves grew in height, white foam spraying off their tips and clouding the air. We secured all our outdoor gear, screwed down the interior hatches, and readied our safety equipment. Our boat was modelled after a lifeboat, designed to self-right if it rolled, compartmentalized to stay afloat if damaged and the ceiling of our cabin was even padded to protect us if we were thrown around. We could not move out of the storm’s path like more powerful boats but were a sitting duck forced to wait for it and hope that we could endure its wrath.
We huddled inside our tiny cabin, disturbingly sized like a double coffin. After three days, we emerged sore and stiff but alive. The eye of Hurricane Vince passed within 95 nautical miles from us during our ordeal and we were relieved when the seas finally returned to normal and we could resume our regular rowing schedule. Unfortunately, this storm was only a taste of what we would face. We were in the worst hurricane year in recorded history and would still encounter one more hurricane and two tropical storms. Ironically our mission was to promote awareness about climate change and we were experiencing first hand what many theorized were the effects of global warming.
The days turned into weeks, which blurred into months. Colin and I were never more than four feet away from each other. We lived in a world of two, where we either rowed or sat in the small cabin that faced the rower. We dreamed of our future, when we would live in a home that was significantly larger than our rowboat cabin and eat meals prepared with fresh foods. In our simplified world we realized how little we needed to survive and be happy and how easy it is to take things for granted in life.
At times, it was hard to stay motivated to continue rowing long hours each day and the monotony of our world wore us down. We encouraged each other and pushed ourselves to be positive and optimistic about every day. Even when the weather was bad, we had to row and it was our decision if we would enjoy it or despise it.
Even though some days were difficult, others left us awestruck. We were constantly visited by marine mammals, fish, and birds. A large Hawks Bill turtle used our boat as a back-scratcher, curious dolphins frolicked around us and ate the fish that sought refuge in our shade, a 20-foot Great White shark circled our boat, flying fish landed on our lap, and numerous other fish swam with us for thousands of kilometers.
After 143 days at sea, crossing almost 10,000 km of ocean, we rowed against strong currents to reach the eastern port of Costa Rica, Limon. “We made it,” Colin shouted as we hugged each other in joy and exhaustion. We were welcomed by a crowd of fans and press, and after hundreds of questions and photographs we progressed to our own quiet celebration. Our sea legs could barely walk and we stumbled to a restaurant and then to a hotel to spend our first night in a bed in almost half a year.
The most difficult part of our journey was complete and now we “only” had an 8,000 km bike ride through Central America, Mexico, and the United States. The journey so far had shown us the beauty of the world in a manner that can only be experienced at the speed of human power and challenged us in ways that brought us closer together. We were constantly reminded that we are only one of many species and that we have a responsibility to preserve the earth for ourselves and everyone else.
For more information about Wafaei's voyage, visit expeditioncanada.com.
Comments
Please login to be able to comment on this article.
more