Caption: Laura with Earth Ball (NOT the one that escaped) in front of Tower Bridge

Not apocalypse now, as it might sound, but one of our Earth Balls coming a cropper early today. After a start considerably delayed by a pleasing amount of media interest in our departure from Big Ben, we set out to start our walk to Brussels, packs on backs and inflated Earth Balls on packs. We were walking along the Thames Path towards Tower Bridge when my phone rang. It was the Associated Press news agency wanting to verify a few facts.

I was just talking with them when I heard a pop and turned around to see an Earth Ball (not mine, but I’m not going to name names) float over the railings and down into the Thames. I burst out laughing, at the same time gasping in horror that we had not only lost an Earth, but also inadvertently dropped a piece of plastic in the river. I then had to explain to the AP journalist what was going on.

“We just lost Planet Earth,” I said. “Luckily, we have another nine.” Then a useful soundbite popped into my head. “Unluckily the same can’t be said of the real Earth. That’s what we’re going to Copenhagen to say. We’ve got just the one Earth, and we have to look after it. In real life, we don’t have any spares.”

And that’s really what it’s all about. We need to clean up our act, and soon, if we’re going to have a nice clean, healthy planet to live on, rather than one polluted with toxins, trash, and, errr, errant Earth Balls.

Fortunately the rest of the day passed without incident. We walked along the Thames Path for a while, then turned north along Regent’s Canal, then followed the River Lea out towards Walthamstow. After an early downpour – which unfortunately coincided exactly with our photo shoot for the press on Westminster Bridge – the skies cleared and the winter sun shone weakly on us as we walked along footpaths and towpaths through the of East London. After our late start it was nearly a couple of hours after dark by the time Jane successfully navigated us to the County Hotel in Woodford.

We have already gathered quite a healthy number of signatures on our Earth Balls – everyone from the patrons of the tiny Caffe Nero where we assembled for our pre-walk breakfast to a group of schoolchildren we met on the canal towpath.

A few thank yous are in order:

Thanks to Marmot for our lovely matching orange waterproof jackets. They looked absolutely splendid for our photo shoot this morning, brightened up an otherwise dreary day, and also made it easy for us to spot each other if the group started to stretch out too much.

Thanks to Keen for my lovely walking boots. After a mere hour of breaking in yesterday, they performed magnificently today, with nary a blister in sight.

Thanks to Sue Losson of Green People for turning up to see us off this morning, despite the inhospitable weather. And to Alan Murray of Murray PR on a great job of getting the press along to witness our departure.

And – of course – to all our backers on Kickstarter, and all the other people who emailed or texted today to wish us good luck on our walk. 15 miles down, 235 to go!

And last but not least, the wonderful women of Team BB2B – Jane, Laura, Alison, Nora, and Mary. It makes a welcome change to have company  -  and such great company too.

Time to clean up our act (Photo by Natalie Behring for Bloomberg)

Let’s forget about climate change.

WHAT??! I hear you gasp. But that’s all she’s been able to talk about ever since she got back from Kiribati. Is she having a crisis of faith?

No, I’m not. Nor am I caving in under pressure from negative comments on this blog. If 100+ days on the ocean couldn’t break my spirit, then a few naysayers don’t bother me.

All I’m saying is that from now on, my stance is going to be officially pro-sustainability rather than anti-climate change. You might think this is just playing on words, but there are two important points to be made here.

1. Focus on the positive

Regular readers might remember the mini-epiphany I had during the last stage of my row – that we need to focus on the solution rather than the problem. Click here to refresh your memory.

To quote Mother Teresa: “I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I’ll be there.” I am going to take a leaf out of that wise woman’s book, and suggest that we focus on what we DO want rather than what we DON’T want.

2. Pulling Together

For certain people, “climate change” has become an emotionally charged phrase. Reading certain comments posted on this site, and possibly the comments of Lord Monckton, it seems they perceive a global conspiracy to overthrow capitalism and democracy. They think that climate campaigners are scamming the public to line their own pockets (I can’t speak for every campaigner, but I can assure you that my pockets are most decidedly empty – and you can ask my unimpeachable mother if you doubt me). They see environmental campaigning being used as a vehicle for self-promotion and aggrandisement.

There is little to be gained by engaging in a tit-for-tat exchange of defense and counter-attack. The personal comments are just a distraction from striving towards a solution. So we’ll move swiftly on.

Both believers and deniers point at the statistics to back up their arguments. Well, we all know there are lies, damned lies, and statistics, and it is generally possible to find evidence to support any preconceived point of view. We are bombarded with so much information that it can be bewildering to try and make sense of it all, so our natural tendency is to apply filters and see only what we want to see.

Even some of my best friends are climate change deniers – and yes, I do still speak to them. They have done their research, considered the facts, and arrived at a different conclusion. I respect that. They are at least engaged, informed, and conscious. Provided that they respect me and my beliefs, then I will extend them the same courtesy.

Too much time and energy has been expended, by both sides, on attacking each other’s facts and each other’s champions. Instead of uniting mankind against a common enemy, “climate change” has instead become a divisive issue just at the time when we are most in need of unity.

So let’s forget it. Hopefully I can show that ultimately it doesn’t matter whether we believe in climate change or not – that we still actually want the same things.

Let’s instead focus on these questions:

1.    Do we agree that we live on a finite earth, and are unlikely to colonise any other planets in the near future?
2.    The first oil was drilled in 1859, just 150 years ago. We have now used around half of it. In 1996 the oil industry estimated we had only 45 years left – at 1996 rates of consumption. But consumption is escalating. Even if you think these figures are pessimistic, do we agree that oil reserves must at some point run out, given that they are a non-renewable resource?
3.    Does anybody enjoy inhaling exhaust fumes? Have you read about the appalling air quality in some Chinese cities – largely due to coal-fired power plants? Would you want to live there? If you live in LA, are you happy about the fact that 25% of your air pollution comes from China?
4.    Would you prefer that your country (whatever country that may be) is engaged in sustainable industries based on renewable energy sources? Or would you prefer that investment continues to flow into industries that depend on energy and fuel sources that must one day run out?
5.    Would you prefer that your country (again, whatever country that may be) is at the leading edge of innovation, a global leader? Or would you prefer to see your economy overtaken by other nations that preferred to invest in industries that will be sustainable, not just in the long term, but in the forever term (or at least as long as the sun continues to shine)?

So let’s raise the tone of the debate. Too often at the moment we look like schoolchildren squabbling over a toy – our most precious toy, the Earth. And the danger is that as we pull in opposite directions in our global tug of war, the Earth will end up broken – or at least unable to sustain human life. That is the worst case scenario – or maybe, from the Earth’s point of view, the best.

Either way, you will love Roz’s new “Best of Blogs” section where we present to you some of our favorite blogs that she has written over the past several years. Re-live some of her adventures on the open ocean. Learn about some of the causes that Roz is most passionate about. Read as Roz bares her soul and talks about what makes her tick.

We will be continuously adding to this section from blogs both old and new, so check back occasionally to see if some of your favorites have made Roz’s list. And of course, please add your comments to suggest your own favorites!

Continuing my retrospective on Stage 2 of the Pacific, there are a few special moments that will live on in my memory long after my calluses have peeled off and my suntan/burn has faded. Share these with me as we bask in the afterglow of my voyage…

1. Spectacular departure from Hawaii, escorted out of the Ala Wai Harbor at sunset by a flotilla of outrigger canoes, sailboats, motor launches, and a solitary stand-up paddler. A moment to treasure forever. With a special mention to the crew of the Blue Lady who came out after dark for a final farewell. They would be the last human beings I would see for the next 104 days.

2. Crossing the Equator, featuring a countdown on Twitter, paying homage to King Neptune (or at least his very capable deputy, Squishy the Dolphin), and opening up my goodie bag to discover a mini bottle of bubbly. Then getting slightly tiddly and rambling on at length to my video camera about how great life is – until the battery went flat and saved me from embarrassing myself further.

3. Realizing that I was going to be able to make it to Tarawa under my own steam, when a long-awaited southeasterly wind arrived at precisely the right moment to help me past Maiana and into the home strait.

4. Nicole jumping overboard from the boat carrying my welcoming committee, and swimming over to Brocade to deliver my long-awaited cold beer. Now that’s what I call dedication!

5. The amazing warmth of the reception in Tarawa. Three hundred or so people on the dock, all smiling, and the dancers performing a traditional dance of welcome. Especially after so long of being alone, the emotion was almost overwhelming.

6. The little magical moments in the ocean wilderness that made every day special, the entertainments that Mother Nature provides to entertain the solitary seafarer – sunrises, sunsets, the light of the moon, and the always awe-inspiring spectacle of a canopy of stars and the Milky Way.

And deserving of a special section all on its own, my favorite Rozling moments, of which there are really too many to mention. What a great bunch of people you are! The impression I got from the ocean was that a disparate assortment of individuals evolved over the summer into a thriving community. It was fantastic to witness. You know that feeling you get when you introduce two friends who both know you but don’t know each other – and they really hit it off and you can just sit back and enjoy their newfound friendship? Well, that’s how I felt, but on a bigger scale. It was like a whole party-ful of people, arriving as strangers but soon finding common ground and the conversation flowing. The whole became greater than the sum of the parts. I hesitate to pick out individuals, but If I had to select a couple of laugh-out-loud moments from Roz’s Regulars…

- Richard in Austin, TX, for the alternative lyrics to the Village People classic YMCA – entitled ITCZ

- UncaDoug and his Bimini Bobbity Boobity Moon!

I hesitate even more to try and list the names of the stalwarts of the Rozling community, in case I miss somebody out and offend them for evermore. I apologize unreservedly in advance if I don’t name you here, but I think we’d all agree that special mentions should go to: UncaDoug, Richard in Austin, Karen Morss, Laurey Masterson, Sindy Davis, Joan in Atlanta, Naomi in NY, Greg from Conway Kayaking Company, John Kay… and, of course, the inimitable Texino.

To these and to each and every person who has visited my blog this year, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am honoured to count you as my friends!

[photo: Luxuriating in the feel of an ice cold bottle of water just after I arrived on land.]

But first let me tell you a bit about the sheer pleasure of being back on dry land. One of the best things about spending long periods of time out at sea is that it makes me appreciate the simple things of land life so much more. To wake up in a comfortable, clean, soft bed… to feel the warmth of the shower jets on my skin… to open a fridge and take out a bottle of refreshing cold water…

So it was with an immense feeling of wellbeing that I woke up in my hotel room yesterday morning. I lay on the floor to do my morning stretch-and-breathe routine, trying to remember how it goes. I went to sit out on the balcony overlooking the lagoon, which is actually very polluted, but from a distance it’s a gorgeous light blue, so different from the deep blue of the open ocean.

I flipped through my trusty spiral-bound notebook while I ate a breakfast of granola bars. I am a great maker of lists and notes, and it was half-full of the lists I’d made in the month or so before my departure from Hawaii. I felt the need for a fresh start, so I tore out the used pages, neatly trimming away the perforated edges before archiving them. Now I had a book of blank pages, ready for the next chapter of my life.

Continuing my theme of simplicity and fresh starts, I next cleared out my backpack. I’d been shocked when I took it off the boat, safe in its drybag, to feel how much it weighed. Did I really used to carry this around on my shoulders all day, every day?! No wonder I’m getting shorter! I found all kinds of junk that had accumulated in its many pockets – useful junk, put there “just in case”, but now some cases seemed too unlikely to justify the weight. Simplify, simplify, said Thoreau. So I did.

Feeling fresh and organized and ready to face the day, I joined up with TeamRoz and we got going. We headed over to the office of David Lambourne, the Solicitor General, to use his relatively good internet connection so Nicole could post the press release and Conrad could upload his video footage of my arrival for the media. The poor guy had been up all night editing 6 hours down to 6 minutes.

David, originally from Australia but now a permanent resident of Tarawa is fast becoming our local angel, as well as being a local mover and shaker. His wife, Tessie, is the Minister of Foreign Affairs for Kiribati. Somebody (oops, could it have been me?) made mention of massage, and he said that one of Tessie’s relatives does a great traditional Tarawan massage. A quick call to his house, and it was arranged. It was definitely one of the more unusual massages I’ve ever had. I was introduced to a multitude of David’s wife’s relatives, sitting in a row of small shady thatched cabanas on the lagoon side of the island, whiling away the hot hours. Two of them tended to me, while a small audience of aunts, sisters and children watched nearby. I sat on the palm matting under the thatch while I was rubbed down with oil and water, and my aching back muscles soothed with long, gentle strokes. Then I was sponged down with a wad of coconut wrapped in muslin and dunked in hot water. Coconut milk ran down my skin. A gentle breeze wafted in from the lagoon. It was all very nice indeed. I smelled like a pina colada.

My masseuse and I chatted as best we could across the language barrier. She is the same age as me – 41 – but has 8 children and 3 grandchildren. Her eldest child is 26 and the youngest is 7. Her husband died of cancer 4 years ago. What different lives.

I spent the rest of the afternoon communing with my journal in the cabana, covering several pages with thoughtful handwriting while the relatives around me chatted amongst themselves in the melodious language of Kiribati, played dice, crocheted, ate and snoozed in the shade. A litter of new puppies slept in a furry heap underneath the cabana. A pig lay in its pen, also comatose. Island life.

Towards dark David’s wife Tessie came home, and David himself arrived with Nicole, Hunter and Conrad. We sat in the cabana drinking toddy, the diluted sap of the palm tree. It’s unlike anything else I’ve ever tasted, but very delicious. It smells strangely of hot dogs, but tastes much better – sweet and fresh. David told us they gather it by climbing to the top of a palm tree and shaving the bark at the site of a new palm frond to get to the rising sap beneath. As you drive around the island you can see the jars they attach to palm trees to gather the juice.

After sunset we sat on the beach under the palm trees, watching the moon rise over the lagoon as we ate a dinner prepared by the relatives. This is how their household works – David and Tessie work to support the relatives, in return for which the 20 or so members of the extended family provide them with cooking, cleaning, and massage services. Everybody’s happy.

The food was the best I’d had so far on the island. There is nowhere on a coral atoll to grow vegetables, so they are in scarce supply. Cabbage is about the only fresh veg available. So we had coleslaw with local tuna and chicken, and the ubiquitous white rice, washed down with coke, cold beer or a very nice New Zealand Pinot Noir according to choice.

Conversation was varied and interesting – including a lot of talk of climate change, which is very much on the minds of the Kitibati government. But more of that later. This blog is too long already. Ciao for now – more tomorrow. We have to go to the airport to collect Ian, who is arriving from San Francisco to help with the boatworks.

[Note: All travel by members of TeamRoz is balanced by carbon offsets to maintain our carbon neutral status.]

Other Stuff:

Just so you know… I still have very limited internet access. Tarawa is progressing fast, but its infrastructure is still a way behind US levels. David’s office has the best data speeds, but it still took Conrad 7 or 8 hours to upload his 6 minutes of video footage. I’m still having to post blogs via email, and Tweets via my satphone, and it’s not easy for me to see comments and other responses. So please forgive me if I seem a bit remote from the online dialogue. A more normal service will be resumed once I leave Tarawa in a couple of weeks.

Some facts on Tarawa – as gleaned by Nicole from the internet:

Tarawa Overview

Latitude: 1° 25′ North, Longitude: 173° 00′ East

Tarawa atoll is the capital of Kiribati, previously capital of the
former British colony of the Gilbert and Ellice Islands.

Tarawa is not a single town but a group of 24 islets (of which at
least 8 are inhabited) surrounded by a coral atoll. Apart from the
south where causeways link the islets, one needs a boat to
navigate around the main features.

The largest islet (South Tarawa) extends from Bonriki (southeast
corner of the atoll) along the entire south side of the lagoon to
Bairiki. A causeway now connects Bairiki to Betio (Japanese causeway).
The largest town, Bikenibeu, and the only airport on Tarawa, Bonriki
International Airport, are on the southeast corner of Tarawa.

Betio island, the chief commercial center of the country, is a port of
entry. The main hospital is located at Bikenibeu. The central
Government offices, Parliament building, President’s Office and
Residence, Central Post Office, Telecommunications Services Kiribati
Limited (TSKL), Library and Archives, and various other official
buildings are all on Bairiki islet.

The population is mainly Micronesian.  Tarawa was occupied by the
Japanese (1941-43) and fell to U.S. marines after a bloody battle. In
the early 1990s the southern part of the capital, particularly Betio,
had one of the highest population densities in the world, leading the
government to resettle residents on less crowded islands.

They are 2 hours behind Hawaii Standard Time. (ie when it is noon in
Hawaii, it is 10 am in Tarawa)

Travel

Flights: The only flights into Tarawa (TRW) are Air Pacific flights
from Nandi, Fiji (NAN). They leave twice a week, on Tuesdays and
Thursdays.

From Honolulu (HNL), there are a few more carrier options. Air
Pacific flies from HNL to NAN as does Qantas, American, United,
Hawaiian and Air New Zealand.

Ships: Supply ships occasionally go to Fiji and Tuvalu.

Accommodations

There are a few options for lodging on Tarawa but we are staying at Hotel Otintaai. It is the main hotel in Kiribati. Fully  owned by Government, the hotel is on South Tarawa with a good view of the lagoon. It is about a 10 minute taxi ride from the hotel to the airport. They have a restaurant, running water, clean rooms and
Internet (ish).

It could be because crossing the Equator had assumed such massive significance in my mind as a Very Difficult Thing. I had maybe allowed myself to get just a bit freaked out by the difficulties encountered by my predecessors in human-powered vessels. And sure, I’ve had my fair share of battles with the elements in trying to get through the lower latitudes, as the winds and currents thwarted my attempts to get south.

But, as with so many things in life, the reality was not as bad as the anticipation. Or it might be because the Equator, unlike the IDL, is actually a geographically significant line. The IDL is a man-made line, allowing us to segment our world into convenient time zones. It could have been located anywhere, and is just where it is because it lies opposite the equally random line of the Prime Meridian at Greenwich – set by British geographers in the days when Britannia ruled the waves. The Equator, on the other hand, is a natural line marking the mid-point between the Poles. It is the line where the Earth is nearest the sun. It is where the Earth is spinning the fastest on its axis. It has a greater sense of significance and reality than the IDL.

Anyway, for whatever reason, today felt very special. I am now a Trusty Shellback, a Pollywog no more. And now I am in the Southern Hemisphere the water will be going down the plughole the opposite way – or would be if I had any plugholes on board. Crossing the Equator was actually quite a busy and time consuming thing to do. I had to pay homage to Neptune and his cohorts (Squishie the Dolphin, with his courtiers Quackers the Duck, the Robin, and the Other Duck). I had to offer gifts – a Larabar (Ginger Snap flavor), and a dollop of California sunshine (a spoonful of Lemon Ladies marmalade). I had to make a sacrifice (I wasn’t prepared to offer a chunk of hair, for fear of spoiling my elegant coiffeur (???!!) so Neptune had to make do with the leavings pulled out of my hairbrush). And I had to deploy the ”coconut” for Project Niu – and then jump in after it to photograph it in the water.

The coconut is actually a high-tech data-gathering device created by the team at Archinoetics, one of several devices that have been let loose in the Pacific to send back information and photographs. The one I deployed today is called something in Hawaiian (Evan, help me out here) which translates as “Pink Savage”. It felt strange to deliberately deposit a large and non-bio-degradable object into the ocean, but as an educational device the end justifies the means, so I am sure Squishie, sorry, I mean Neptune, will understand. I just hope the Niu doesn’t travel faster than I do. That would be embarrassing.
Then, duties done, it was time for my treats. With a sense of eager anticipation I opened up the yellow drybag that Liz and Nicole had given me before I left Hawaii. The girls had done me proud. There was the ”bling” – a many-stranded necklace of plastic beads, and some pink face paint, both of which I promptly put on. There was the jokey gift – a cooking spatula with a wooden handle. There was the declaration admitting me to the ocean domain as a Trusty Shellback, a Pollywog no more. There were the edible treats – a snack bar and some Sharkies. And, oh bliss, there was the miniature bottle of bubbly. Thank you girls!

I must be the world’s cheapest date at the moment (had there been anybody about to take advantage – which there wasn’t). After 3 booze-free months, the 2 glassfuls of bubbly went straight to my head in the nicest possible way. As the sun set I was sitting on deck feeling happily woozy, admiring the pink and grey clouds, full of oceanic bonhomie and thinking there was really nowhere else on earth I would rather be than at the Equator on such a beautiful day.

[photo: Pulling the bubbly back on board after a brief chilling in the ocean (in the net bag that usually contains my beansprouter) – while Neptune/Squishy the Dolphin looks on]

Other Stuff:
After not seeing another vessel for 3 months, today, on MY Equator, there were intruders. A container ship was just sitting there, doing nothing much. I think I could hear a faint sound of a bell ringing repeatedly, so presumably they were having their own Equatorial celebration. I tried hailing them on the VHF radio, in hopes that they might cruise on over and bring me some additional water supplies – or even some more bubbly – but there was no reply. Guess they were too busy partying.

Although I’ve taken the evening off – largely due to the after-effects of the bubbles – tomorrow it will be back to the oars with a vengeance. I’ve still got 500 miles to go, and I need to make some East if I’m going to have any chance of hitting Tuvalu. Ricardo tells me conditions are going to be calm, so it’s a prime opportunity to head back towards the IDL and set myself up for the final push for home.

For the record, I crossed the Equator at 18:42:02 Hawaii Time, at longitude 179 12.359E.

Weather report:
Position at 2210 HST: 00 00.860S (yayyyyy!), 179 09.371E
Wind: variable but light throughout the day. Generally 0-10kts, S-E.
Seas: swell of about 4ft, SE
Weather: sunny and fine, scattered cumulus cloud. Very hot.

I am a preachers’ kid (yes, the apostrophe IS in the right place – BOTH my parents were preachers) but I do not count myself a religious person. But I do have a strong belief system that I have evolved over the few years since I stepped out of the rat race to get a fresh perspective on life. I have done a lot of reading and thinking – as well as simply observing – and have been especially influenced by Aldous Huxley’s “Perennial Philosophy”, “Conversations With God” by Donald Neale Walsh, and the teachings of Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer.

I believe that there is more to this world that can be perceived with the five human senses. It would surprise me if reality in its entirety could be witnessed through sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. We evolved these five because they are what our physical body needed for survival, but I am sure that there are other dimensions to reality. Although we can’t perceive these other aspects directly, we CAN see the effects that they have on our sensory reality if we try playing around to make them work for us – like, for example, the Law of Attraction.

The way I see it, one of these other dimensions that we can’t physically see is a kind of pool of energy that unites us all – call it God, the Source, the Oneness, the Universe, or whatever you will – and that this force exists in every single living being in the world – or even the universe, if there is life on other planets.

To try and illustrate this… in a sense we are united physically by the Earth. We all stand on it, sit on it, or lie on it – or in a building that rests on it. We’re not floating several miles above it, or off in space somewhere. We are all in some way physically and directly connected to the Earth. Similarly, we are all united spiritually by this unifying force. We are connected to it by whatever that magical thing is that makes us into living beings rather than just inert lumps of flesh. That spark of life force, or your soul, or your heart, or your energy – whatever you call that thing makes you a living, moving, sentient being – is what connects us all to each other.

And this energetic field that connects us all is also, I think, where we can draw things to ourselves that cannot be explained through the laws of logic or the perception of our five human senses. When we act, talk, or think, our actions, words and thoughts reverberate through that field and create consequences in the visible world.

So, that’s the basis. But what does that mean in real life? How does this belief system influence how I live?

First, I will always treat other people with respect – in fact, I will treat them as I would want to be treated myself – because we are all connected. So if I hurt them, I hurt myself.

Second, I believe that we owe it to ourselves, and to everybody else, to be the very best person that we can be in this lifetime. Because we are all connected, when one person strives to be better, it raises everybody up.

Third, I’ve found the best way to be the best person I can be is to put ego aside, and to tap into that greater force – to ask it, what is my purpose? How can I serve the whole? When we take our guidance from that collective energy, by listening to our heart, we can be sure that we do the right things for the right reasons. It also enables us to make sure what we do is the very best that can be done, because we do it not alone, but with the enormous resources of energy and inspiration that lie in that pool of collective consciousness.

I do not claim that my belief system is “true” – I claim only that this is what I have CHOSEN to believe, based on my experiences, and because these beliefs serve me well. It makes sense to me, makes me happy, gives me a sufficient feeling that I am in control of my own destiny, while also allowing a bit of room for those magical moments of serendipity that make me believe there is a sense of justice and harmony in the world.

But I also freely admit that there are many other ways to perceive the world, and many other belief systems that can be construed based on the same evidence. We only have to look at any scientific controversy to see that intelligent, rational people can look at the same data and arrive at radically different conclusions.

So I have no problem with other people believing whatever they want to believe – provided that their belief does not impinge on my personal freedom. And similarly I would never dream of foisting my belief system on anybody else.

I think it is up to everybody to figure out what works for them. I’ve put a lot of thought into my own system of spirituality. To me there is nothing in life so important as those big questions – who am I? Why am I here? What is the point of it all? And that we all owe it to ourselves to spend time and effort thinking about these questions – if we want to be happy.

Wow, this is a very personal blog, and I feel almost shy about baring my soul to this extent. But, hey, I’ve bared just about everything else this voyage. So why not my soul too?

[photo: feel free to think I'm crazy, but at least I'm happy!]

Other Stuff:

This morning I had just 13 miles to go to get to 2 degrees North. If the weather had been like yesterday I would have done this today, no problem. But the weather wasn’t, and I didn’t. The wind veered round from E, to ESE, SE, until I was being blown north again. At the moment the wind is looking undecided as to how mean it’s going to be. Will it let me off with just a temporary hold-up at this latitude, or will it be a total b*****d and blow me all the way up north again? Who knows. I’m deliberately not thinking about it – or at least, rapidly redirecting my thoughts every time I do start thinking about it. It will be what it will be.

Apologies for not updating you on the fate of the fish that I invited to supper last night, on the condition that he provide the main course – or, in fact, BE the main course. Truth be told, he was a dead loss. I started trying to cut the flesh off him, but as you may have observed from the photo, he was built for speed, not supper, being long and skinny rather than plump and round. So, basically, there was so little meat on him that he was a total waste of space supper-wise. So I recycled him over the side of the boat and resorted to freeze-dried curry instead, which with the addition of some powdered coconut milk was very yummy indeed.

Dave Finnigan – your film concept sounds very interesting. I do have a contact at Lucasfilm. Could I ask you to get back in touch with me when I am on dry land, and we will follow up then? You can contact me at info@rozsavage.com.

Dale – thanks for the reminder about enjoying the here and now, and being present in the moment. I’ve actually become much more aware of that in the last couple of days, and have been working on it – and am feeling much more content as a result. Thank you for the timely reminder.

Margaret Taylor – thank you for your very special message. You in turn have inspired me. I hope that we both reach the far side of our challenges as better and stronger people.

Amy Olmstead – I will be sure to give you a shout if and when I make it to Austin!

Rozta’ Bill – alas it looks like the UH forecast was overly optimistic. Hey ho! I listened to Tribes the other day. Really enjoyed it and got a lot out of it. Pretty inspiring stuff!

Thank you to Robert Pfeiffer, Roman Lyubimov, Andrew M Reed and Laurey Masterton for their kind donations – all very much appreciated. Thank you, Rozlings!

Jerome, Judy, Joan, Sebastian – great to hear from you too. Thanks for your comments!

Weather report:

Position at 2215 HST: 02 09.407Nm 177 12.476W Wind: 5-20kts, sometimes E, sometimes SE, sometimes in between Seas: 3-5ft NE Weather: showers this morning, overcast for a while, mostly clear skies with scattered showers this afternoon, clouding over again towards nightfall

Weather forecast courtesy of weatherguy.com

Latest tracker reported your position as: 02 39N 177 05W as of 09Aug 2335HST.

As of Monday morning 10 Aug 2009. According to measured data, there have been Eerly winds up to 7-12kts and little significant rainshower activity in your area. 10kt Eerly winds extends to 01 30S then increase to Eerly 15-20kts then shift to SEerly 0-20kts. Winds continue to be very shifty next couple of days becoming Eerly 0-15kts by 1500HST 11Aug. Then shifting to SEerly 0-20kts by 12Aug 1200HST. Uncertainty remains in the forecast, as previously discussed.

According to satellite imagery, there remains widespread areas of low level clouds amongst scattered areas of deep convection. There is a significant area of deep convection south of the Equator centered near 03 00S 175 00W. Rainshowers, squalls, and thunderstorms in areas of deep convection.

Sky conditions: Partly to mostly cloudy. Scattered moderate rainshowers, squalls, and possible thunderstorms.

Forecast (low confidence due to extreme variability in equatorial regions and naturally occurring small scale fluctuations in direction/speed in the Doldrums) Date/Time HST Wind kts Seas (ft) est 10/1800-10/2100 E-SE 0-20 2-5 10/2100-11/1800 SE-E 0-20 2-5 11/1800-12/1200 E-SE 0-20 2-5 12/1200-14/0600 SE-ENE 5-20 2-5 14/0600-15/0000 ENE-SE 0-20 2-5

Next Update: Thursday, 13 August

Having said that, there was quite a buzz at the Waikiki Yacht Club today. My team of helpers had been on hand all day, all working hard on boat, medical kit, last-minute purchases, laundry, technology, etc. But at 6pm approached a new contingent arrived – press, cameras, and so on. Tom Stone, the kahuna (Hawaiian priest) blessed my boat.

But the memories that will stay in my mind the longest are of the departure itself. So many people on land and sea there to wish me well. People standing along the harbour wall on Magic Island holding up big signs to cheer me on. A flotilla of paddlers (both seated and stand-up), sailboats and powerboats. The big media boat. The helicopter swooping overhead to get aerial footage.

One by one they turned around and headed back to shore, and after all he noise the silence of the ocean surrounded me. I rowed for a while longer, and had just popped into the cabin to post a Tweet when a familiar voice accosted me. It was Barry Pickering, Mike Marsh and Cindy on board the Blue Lady, a small sailboat I’ve enjoyed some memorable Friday nights on. A final goodbye, and then I was really alone, watching the bright lights of Honolulu recede behind me as I rowed out into the inky darkness of the open ocean.

I’d planned to row a bit longer tonight, but I’m bushed. It’s been a long day. So I’ve just had a sponge-and-bucket bath to rinse away some of the sweat of the day, and soon I’ll get my head down for a short sleep. Conditions are calm tonight – dead silent and only the slightest swell – so I hope I get some good zzz in between waking up to check for shipping. I won’t be able to relax until I get out of sight of land, and well away from shipping lanes.

Just finally, I’d like to say a HUGE thank you to everybody who came down to see me off. I didn’t get the chance to say thanks and goodbye to everyone – so please forgive me. Thanks especially those who came from the mainland, and to Captain Vince of the White Holly and his new wife Joanna – they got married today, but still found time to come and wish me well. Congratulations, and very
best wishes for the future!

I gave my presentation on the middle day of the conference, and, ahem, blush, got a couple of standing ovations. I was more nervous than usual before my speech – hmmm, that might be something to do with speaking in front of a Nobel Peace Prize winner and another legend of the green movement, Canadian environmentalist Dr David Suzuki. But that memory of a roomful of people, including Mr Al Gore, standing to applaud my speech will make me smile for a long time to come, and will help motivate me through the tougher days on the ocean. It’s just good to know that what I say makes sense and resonates with people – even people of intelligence and distinction.

The last day of the conference was even more amazing for me, and I still get a little glow of satisfaction thinking about it. In his closing remarks Al Gore suddenly said my name, out of the blue, not in the middle of a sentence – just suddenly “Roz”. I nearly jumped out of my skin, like a student caught daydreaming. But he then went on to say “When you wrote those two stories with the two alternative versions of your future…”, referring to my obituary exercise. He went on to use that as his main theme – we have two possible futures – which will we choose?

Then as we were being photographed together he said he’d shown my website to his wife and daughter the night before. Who wouldn’t be flattered to imagine Al and Tipper huddled around the computer screen checking out my website?

[The photo above is just a placeholder, taken by Nicole on her iPhone. Better pics to come.]

So, yup, even though I try (and generally succeed) in not being too impressed or over-awed by anybody based on reputation alone, I couldn’t help but be pleased to bits that my words had made an impact with him. Hey, I’m only human!

So now it’s back to Hawaii and some seriously hard work. But I’ve got fantastic support from my friends, several of whom are coming out from California to help out with last-minute preparations. So I’m sure it will all happen. And then the hard work starts – the rowing. Oh boy….

If you’re really interested/a glutton for punishment, I’ve included my speech in its entirety below. It’s not exactly what I said – I tend to write out speeches in full, but then ignore the notes while I’m actually on stage – but it’s more or less what you would have heard if you’d been there.

My name is Roz Savage. I am an ocean rower, and a recovering addict. I used to be addicted to money, materialism, and stuff. I’d like to tell you a story about how and why I turned from management consultant into ocean rower, and what this has to do with climate change.

Back in the year 2000, I was supposed to be happy. I had the well-paid job in London, the big house, the foreign vacations, the little red sports car. In other words I had the classic materialistic western lifestyle – everything that Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher had told me would make me happy. But there was something wrong with this picture. I wasn’t happy. I felt there was something inherently unsustainable about my lifestyle. At this stage it wasn’t even an environmental awareness. It was just a niggling feeling that there was a mismatch between the person I was and the person I was pretending to be.

What brought it home to me was an exercise I did one day. I sat down and wrote two versions of my own obituary – the one I wanted, and the one I was heading for. They were very different. So I realized then that I needed to make a course correction. I realized that my future would be the accumulation of my todays, and my todays weren’t taking me in the direction I wanted to go.

So I set out on a different track, and it was around this time that I read about the Hopi prophecies. The Hopis have been sending a delegation to the United Nations ever since the Second World War, to deliver their message that if we lose touch with our spirituality, and start exploiting the earth instead of respecting it, it’s not going to go so well for us.

When I read that, it just made sense to me. I remembered how as a child I would look out at the English countryside from the back seat of my parents’ car and notice how deep a mark mankind had left on the landscape – and feel that it wasn’t quite right. But then I grew up, and lost that sense of what was right and what was wrong. I got caught up in the modern day myth that stuff makes you happy, and for 11 years did a job I didn’t like to buy stuff I didn’t need. It took me a long time to realize that it was this disconnect between my values and my lifestyle that was making me unhappy.

I think that deep down many people have that same unease. We know, intuitively, that we are on an unsustainable course. We know that we can’t keep sucking all the goodness out of the earth, turning it into stuff, and throwing it into landfill. Nature works in cycles, cradle to cradle – a cycle of life – while our current model of industry goes from cradle to grave – a line of death.

We can try to hide from this knowledge, as I used to – numbing ourselves with TV, over-indulging in food, or burying ourselves in the constant busy-ness of 21st century adult life, most of which revolves around stuff – buying stuff, selling stuff, maintaining stuff, fixing stuff, earning the money to buy yet more stuff, all for the greater good of the economy, which is based on our growing demand for stuff.

Finite earth, infinite growth – this just cannot work in the long term. It cannot be sustainable.

Deep down we do all know how to live. Once I saw the insanity and self-destructiveness of where we are going, I couldn’t NOT know it. And I couldn’t stand by and watch us all go to hell in a handcart. So I resolved to live more sustainably – and hopefully to inspire others to do the same.

So, from the arch-materialist of 2000, let’s fast forward six years. It is March 2006 and I am bobbing around on a 23-foot rowboat in the western Atlantic. I am homeless, penniless, jobless and exhausted after 103 days at sea. But bizarrely, I’ve never been happier.

During the intervening years I have gradually reassessed my entire value system. I’ve transitioned into a life that is simple and authentic, and it feels good in a way that life never felt before.

Now I am sharing my human-powered, environmentally friendly adventure across the internet from my boat, in the hope that other people might be inspired to try out a different, more sustainable way of living.

And it seems to be working. I get emails from people thanking me for making them aware of environmental issues, and for showing them how they can make changes in their lives that will make a real difference to their environmental impact.

When I’m sharing my message, I try to focus on the positive. There is so much information out there – if people want to know about climate change, a quick Google search will give them all they need to know. But most of them don’t want to know it. They are just worrying about getting food on the table or paying the mortgage.

Thinking about the environment makes them feel guilty, ashamed, stressed, afraid. So they ignore it. What I love about what I do is that it enables me to reach the unconverted. I get in under their radar. People come to my website because they are interested in adventure, or technology, or the ocean. Some of them think what I am doing is pretty cool. And when they see that I care passionately about the environment, they think that is cool too – kind of coolness by association, a new kind of aspiration.

So I’m doing it again. I finished rowing across the Atlantic just over 3 years ago. Now I am one third of the way through rowing across the Pacific. Last summer I rowed from San Francisco to Hawaii in a time of 99 days, and I am about to set out on Stage 2 – starting in just 9 days time.

And I’m about to announce my environmental initiative this year, which is all about climate change in the run-up to Copenhagen. When people read my blogs or hear my presentations, they tend to feel energized and inspired, and I want to take that energy and divert it in an environmental direction.

So I am asking people to match my 10,000 oarstrokes a day with 10,000 steps, which is the minimum we are supposed to take for our health. And the best way for them to fit the walking into their day is to walk as a substitute for driving. Short journeys – walk instead. Longer journeys – park a mile before the end of the journey. People will be able to upload their step counts to a website where they will be able to see all the other people around the world who are also taking part in the challenge, to build that sense of community and collaboration.

The idea is that I will then take the combined efforts of my walkers as a message to the climate change conference in Copenhagen. On October 24 – designated as a global day of action on climate change by Bill McKibben’s 350.org – I will be setting out to walk 600 miles from London to Copenhagen. I am hoping that people will come and join me on the march.

We are working with the United Nations Environmental Program, and I am hoping to have the opportunity to deliver a message to the delegates to say – “We’ve had this many people in this many countries taking this many steps and saving this much CO2. We’ve done our bit to save the planet – now you do yours.” And we plan to take a crystal model of the earth with us, which doubles up as a crystal ball looking into the future. We will present the delegates with this crystal earth, as if to say, “This is our fragile earth – its future is in your hands.”

We are calling this initiative Pull Together, and we really do want to build that sense of connectedness – a global community of people all pulling together to make a difference. Some people might feel that anything they do is just a drop in the ocean, but every action counts. Each of my ocean crossings has taken a million oarstrokes. One stroke doesn’t get me very far, but you take a million tiny actions and you string them all together, and you can accomplish almost anything.

And everybody in this room is contributing to this. You are all spreading ripples in your communities. I want to invite you to use me and my adventures to destroy people’s excuses. If I’m prepared to row 7,500 miles across the Pacific to make a point about climate change – then is it really so much to ask, to get someone to leave the car at home and walk to the corner store? Help me to make sure that there never comes a day when I can row across the Arctic Ocean, because the ice cap is no longer there.

Point your audiences to my website at rozsavage.com, ask them to check out what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. Make them believe that anything is possible, if only they want it enough. I used to believe that I had to live a certain kind of a life, because that was what Oxford graduates in the late 80’s did. It was what I was expected to do, and I bought into it. But then, you know what, I asked myself – is this true? This assumption I’ve made, about what I “have” to do, maybe it’s wrong. Maybe there’s a better way. And so I stepped outside. And the world carried on turning, the sun carried on rising. In fact, life got a heck of a lot better.

We’ve told ourselves that growth is good, that we need all this stuff, that we have to keep consuming, consuming, as our God-given right. But is it true? We tell ourselves that because we’ve been doing things this way for as long as we can remember, then it must be right to carry on this way. But maybe there’s another, better way, if only we find the courage to try it.

We stand at a pivotal moment in human history. I had my own pivotal moment when I wrote those two versions of my own obituary, and realized that the future I was heading for was not the one I wanted. Now as humans we have a collective pivotal moment, when we have to consider the possible outcomes and decide what kind of a future we want – do we want to live on a planet blessed with biodiversity, in a healthy, self-regulating biosphere? Or do we want to live on a planet wracked by famine, drought, floods and storms, with populations displaced, and wars waged over increasingly scarce resources?

When I looked back over my life from my imaginary deathbed, I realized I wasn’t living a life I could be proud of. It was a nice enough life, comfortable, pleasant, but I didn’t feel I was contributing anything valuable, I wasn’t leaving a legacy. When we look back at 2009 from a point in the future, will we be proud of the choices we made, will we be proud of the legacy we left, or will we be saying, “if only”?

The time for finger-pointing is past. Sure, some countries have been more at fault than others. As a Brit, I’m painfully aware that we probably started it with the Industrial Revolution. But as with so many things, the Americans took it and beat us at our own game.

But that doesn’t matter now. We can’t change the past. We have to look to the future.

We human beings are amazing creatures. We are creative, artistic, scientific, and philosophical. But we have also been arrogant, conceited, carried away with our own cleverness and believing that we can buck the laws of nature and get away with it. For a while, we HAVE got away with it, but now we’re living on borrowed time.

We’ve been killing this earth through a thousand billion cuts. There have been a few major disasters, but mostly the damage has been caused by a multitude of consumer decisions, multiplied up day after day, six billion times across the globe. Actually, it’s not the earth we’re killing – it’s ourselves. Give the earth a few billennia, and it will be just fine – but will we be around to see it? Or will we have drowned in our own filth, made sick by the toxins we have pumped out into our environment, day after day, year after year.

But the good news is, that we can counteract those thousand billion cuts with a thousand billion conscious, responsible decisions. We can start to heal the earth, by taking responsibility as individual consumers and by being the change we want to see in the world. In the past we have allowed our egotistical brains to overrule the wisdom of our hearts. Now it’s time to reconcile our inner and outer lives – to use the wisdom of our hearts as our compass, showing us which way we need to go, and then to use our brains to create the strategy for getting there.

This is the only earth we’ve got, and we have to take good care of it if we want it to take good care of us. We know this, and we need to tune in to that deep knowledge of how to live, respecting the earth instead of exploiting it.

We, you, are already creating awareness and change at grassroots level, which is good and necessary. But we also need to create change at a global, political level, to turn this tide before it is too late. And that is why it is so crucial what happens in Copenhagen – and beyond. We need decisive action, and a firm commitment to get back under 350ppm as fast as possible.

The best way to achieve something is to aim to achieve twice as much, so we need to push, and push hard. Time is too short for half-hearted ambitions. We have the technology, we just need to commit. It won’t be easy. Rowing oceans isn’t easy. There are many times when my motivation wavers, and I wonder what the hell ever possessed me to do this. But the thing that keeps me going is that I have a powerful reason why. I just have to keep my eye on the goal, and know that in the end it will all be worthwhile, because I am fighting for something that I care about.

So, we have to ask ourselves, is our continued survival as a species something that we care about? Is it a strong enough reason why for us to take the short term pain to achieve the long term gain? Do we believe we are worth saving?

I absolutely believe that we are, and that we can do it. It won’t be easy, but I truly believe that if we all pull together, we CAN build a better, greener future, the same way that I row across oceans – one stroke, one action, at a time.