Four Mums in a Boat: Friends who rowed 3000 miles, broke a world record and learnt a lot about life along the way. Janette Benaddi

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СКАЧАТЬ to row an ocean. They were the embodiment of the power of positive thinking.

      However, much as we loved having our families with us, there were also a great many moments when we felt torn. The plan had been to fly them out on the Wednesday and Thursday before the race and for them to leave on the Sunday, with the race itself starting on Tuesday. With so much to check and go through, most of the days were spent with Rose, and it was only in the evenings that we really got to see our children.

      We’d discussed many times how we wanted to leave the harbour on the day of the race, what our exit strategy would be, and we had all agreed, except Janette, that we would rather be rowing towards our children in Antigua, rather than away from them in La Gomera. So we didn’t want a send-off. We didn’t want to watch weeping nine-year-olds on the quay, frantically calling out their mothers’ names as they disappeared off into the distance. Equally, we also didn’t want to be waving and crying and shouting ‘I love you!’ right back across the waves as our families became small dots on the horizon. And, as Niki pointed out, none of us wanted to say the wrong thing. It would be difficult enough to say goodbye without saying something we would regret over the next three months, stuck on the ocean, with plenty of time to ruminate, churn and analyse from every angle what was said or not said. It was also psychologically smarter that every stroke we took would be one step closer towards them, rather than one step further away.

      So it was decided that the majority would leave on the Sunday, taking all our luggage with them. (Janette’s family, being a little older and more used to her travelling abroad and being away for long periods of time, were staying until 1 p.m. on the Tuesday to wave us all off for the start of the race. They were keen to give us a send-off and Janette waskeen to have them around.) We would only have a small plastic bag of toothbrushes, toothpaste and two pairs of chafe-free pants (Janette won the argument!), which would see us through the next three months until we got to Antigua.

      The Saturday before everyone left, there was a party in a cave behind the harbour with some dubious-tasting crabsticks and a seafood-flavoured Swiss roll and quite a lot of beer. We all talked about how we were feeling about the row, what we wanted to get out of it and how we thought it might change us.

      ‘I don’t want to worry as much,’ said Niki. ‘I want to be less organised – enough of the OCD.’

      ‘I want to be much MORE organised,’ said Helen. ‘I also want to prove that being a working mother doesn’t stop you from living your dreams.’

      ‘I don’t think I’ll change at all,’ declared Frances, taking a sip of her beer. ‘I shall probably come back exactly the same. The journey to get here has changed me already.’

      ‘I want to live in the moment,’ said Janette. ‘And’, she added, presenting a very small pair of turquoise shorts with green fluoro piping around the legs, ‘I am determined to fit into these!’

      ‘What size are they?’ shrieked Helen as we all laughed.

      ‘Medium,’ Janette replied solemnly. ‘They are a little tight.’

      We all watched, laughing, as Janette wriggled and struggled, snaking her hips from side to side, as she tried to edge the teeny tiny shorts over her knees. But they refused to budge and stood firm.

      ‘Mmm,’ said Frances, looking her slowly up and down. ‘This is going to be quite a long trip.’

      The next day we said farewell to our families. The tears flowed, the hugs were tight and the goodbyes were painful.

      Niki, whose children are the youngest, was perhaps the most upset. It was obvious by her abject silence and the firm grip she had on Gareth’s hand that she was trying extremely hard to keep it together. Her teeth were gritted and the smile on her face was tight to the point of rictus.

      ‘If I speak, I will cry,’ she said very quietly to her husband as they slowly walked towards the ferry.

      Aiden and Corby were also none too keen to leave. They’d loved the boats and the sunshine, and spending Christmas without their mum was going to be hard. Christmas really was their thing. Their magic time of year. Niki was queen of Christmas and now she wasn’t going to be there. ‘Bye, Mum. See you after Christmas. Good luck,’ they said, hugging Niki as tightly as they could. Having kept it together over breakfast and smiling as brightly as she could all the way to the ferry, this proved too much for Niki. The tears started to roll. Try as she might, she could not stop them.

      ‘It won’t be long,’ Gareth whispered in her ear. ‘We’ll be thinking of you all the time. And just think of how it will feel in Antigua. We’ll be waiting for you.’

      They hugged one last time before they boarded the ferry. Niki waved cheerfully as the tears poured down her cheeks.

      Meanwhile, Helen was desperately trying to be bright and jolly, endlessly talking extremely quickly about anything at all other than the row, and trying to say positive things to Henry and Lucy.

      ‘Don’t forget your GCSEs,’ she said to Lucy. ‘Keep working hard. It’s only seven months to go. They’ll fly by. You can do it. You can nail them, smash them… And you –’ She turned to Henry. ‘You can enjoy school and make me proud. I am already proud… even more proud… if it’s possible to be prouder…’

      And with one final kiss to Richard and the children, Helen wished them all a Happy Christmas as she waved them onto the boat.

      Frances’s boys were much less keen on making a fuss. After some strong, brave hugging, she simply kissed Jay, Jack and Mark and waved them goodbye as everyone boarded the ferry back to Tenerife.

      It was an odd feeling as our families left. The sadness was balanced by fear and the excitement of what was about to happen. All the waiting, the focus and the hard work was about to come to fruition and we were ready to go. We wanted to get out there and get on with it. It was then, when we got back to the marina, that we discovered the race had been cancelled. Not cancelled as such, but delayed, and delayed by a whole five days. It was a huge shock, but there was nothing to be done. The southerly winds were too strong – they’d blow us all back into the Canaries, or worse, and we wouldn’t stand a chance of getting to Antigua no matter how hard we rowed. The harbour master and the race officials were adamant we would have to wait for a better weather window before they would allow us to leave. We might have been desperate to get going, but the ocean clearly had other plans.

      Most of the crews took it quite well – nearly every other race before us had suffered some sort of delay, so it was not unexpected. Except we, of course, had not quite thought that possibility through and found ourselves turfed out of our ‘deluxe’ Spanish apartment with only a plastic bag of toothpaste and pants to our name. Fortunately, Janette had a plan. As her family was staying on a little longer, she’d managed to find a hotel up the hill. The Parador – a five-star, no less – where they viewed us with deep suspicion as we shuffled into their smart reception area, wearing nothing but our rowing vests and black Lycra shorts, swinging our carrier bags.

      The delay sadly meant that Janette had to say goodbye to her family too before the start of the race. They had their flights booked to leave on Tuesday after we were supposed to have set off. There was talk of Ben, Safiya and James staying on, but in the end it was decided that they, too, should leave. The start was currently five days delayed, but it could change. There was no point in them waiting in limbo, especially this close to Christmas. So they said their goodbyes, with Janette keeping it as light as possible.

      ‘Good luck, Mum,’ said Safiya, with a wave.

      ‘Watch out СКАЧАТЬ