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 I’m not setting foot in that ocean!’

      ‘Don’t take too long,’ smiled Ben.

      ‘I won’t!’ laughed Janette.

      ‘Row hard and you’ll get there sooner!’ he suggested.

      ‘Never thought of that!’ quipped Janette.

      ‘Bye!’ they waved.

      ‘Bye!’ she waved.

      Janette carried on smiling and waving as they boarded the ferry, before walking around the corner and collapsing against the wall of the ticket office, where she promptly burst into tears.

      So now we were alone. Just us and Rose. Occasionally a giant cruise ship would dock in the harbour and we’d hear people shouting.

      ‘Look, that’s them! The Yorkshire Rows. There they are. With their tiny little boat.’

      It seems our little stint on the telly with James Cracknell had been a bit of a hit back home.

      ‘Good luck!’ they’d yell, waving at us. ‘We’re thinking of you!’

      It was wonderful to think that we had some support out there. We were, after all, trying to raise money for charity, so any interest we gained along the way was incredibly helpful. But it was an odd time, sitting around and making jobs for ourselves, waiting to hear when we were going to set off.

      So the arrival of Wayne and Tracy was a welcome relief. Close friends of Janette’s, they had been on a trip of a lifetime to go and see the Northern Lights in Iceland for the past 10 days. They had never flown before and were first-time owners of a passport. They had been gutted not to be able to see Janette off in the first place, as they were away. However, having read about the delayed start to the race, they decided to change planes in London (they were clearly ‘liking the flying thing’) and come to La Gomera. None of us believed they would make it until we saw Tracy tottering down the pontoon towards us, waving frantically, still wearing her Northern Lights outfit.

      ‘Yoo-hoo!’ she yelled, picking her way past the boats in her fur boots and heavy jacket, with lots of blonde hair. ‘Here we are!’ She was followed by Wayne, who, a few years younger than Tracy, was also dressed for the frozen wastes of Iceland. ‘We’re here!’ he grinned. ‘We had to come and see you off!’

      And they did. Come race day they were the ones waving and shouting goodbye as we slowly edged our way out of the port.

       SHIP’S LOG:

      ‘Prepare and prepare again. Whatever you do in life, throw yourself into it, learn everything you can and be ready for the ride of your life. Believe in yourself and believe in the special people around you, because they believe in you.’

      (JANETTE/SKIPPER)

       CHAPTER 2

       Holding On

       ‘The sky is not my limit … I am.’

      T. F. HODGE

       20 December 2015, San Sebastián Marina, La Gomera

      The day itself started early: there was a briefing at 7 a.m. Not that the early start mattered that much, as none of us had really slept the night before. It was more than nerves. It was a terrifying feeling, not being able to stop something we had put in motion all that time ago. We had been waiting for this day for so long and now it was here. Very early, we enjoyed a ‘last breakfast’ at a café on the seafront, quietly savouring the last proper meal we would eat for possibly the next three months and deep in our own thoughts. We were lingering – it was as if no one quite wanted to leave.

      Janette piped up into the silence.

      ‘I feel so nervous, as if I’m about to get married again!’

      ‘What the hell are we doing?’ asked Helen.

      ‘Who knows?’ replied Niki. And we all looked at one another.

      ‘Well, come on then!’ said Frances, standing up. As the one who’d got us into all of this, she wasn’t going to allow us to sit around as if there was nowhere else we should be. ‘Let’s do this!’ And with that, she led us out, leaving the table and, indeed, her sunglasses behind.

      The briefing room was silent, but we were worried and disconcerted to see that Lauren from Row Like a Girl was visibly upset as we listened to Carsten Heron Olsen, CEO and race director, run through his last-minute safety list. Quite apart from how sorry we felt for her, she was one of the few who knew what it was really like out there. And the gift given to each of the boats in the race from the people of La Gomera did not help much either. It was a gladdening picture of the Holy Mary to stick on the wall of the cabin, which (we noticed) no one refused. It was like we were being read our last rites. What the hell had we let ourselves in for?

      The silent, tense atmosphere of the briefing was in massive contrast to the noise outside. We walked, blinking, into the sunlight to be faced with cheering, waving crowds and a loud local band. The sound was overwhelming and as the deafening drums beat out some unrecognisable tune, we all processed in silence behind.

      Yorkshire Rows had been given the honour of going first out of the harbour. The fours were leading out and we’d been chosen to head the race out of San Sebastián into the Atlantic. It would probably be the only time we would be leading the race itself and we felt extremely proud and sick with nerves as we walked towards Rose, moored up on the pontoon. Our hearts were pounding. Our hands were sweating. This was it. There was no turning back. Helen, who is normally one of the most garrulous of us all, was completely silent. We were trying to focus. Then, what had begun in apparent slow motion began to frantically speed up. Suddenly it felt like a panic, as we all started asking if we had everything. Where was this? That? Frances had lost her sunglasses. Where the hell were they? Janette was fumbling with the tiller, making those last-minute skipper checks – battery levels, harnesses and comms. Niki’s feet wouldn’t fit in her shoes and Helen was looking for some sort of sign that everything was going to be fine.

      Looking for signs is Helen’s thing. She has a very close friend, Dawn, who reads angel cards and tarot.

      ‘It was through her that I learnt about looking for signs,’ she once explained to the rest of us. ‘You just have to open your eyes to see them, whereas before I would have my head down and didn’t look at what was around me and didn’t see the opportunities or the potential in any situation. But she taught me that actually you’ve got to look, and there’s always someone ready to help you, supporting you. But you have to look and listen.’

      In the run-up to the race Helen was seeing signs all the time. She’d go into restaurants and there would be oars on the wall. She went on holiday to a cottage in Robin Hood’s Bay only to find a great big blade in the kitchen. But feathers are really her thing. She sees them everywhere. They are small indications of affirmation and support.

      ‘Helen!’ shouted Sarah, one of the PR girls working for Talisker, as we were poised at the oars, about to set off. ‘Look! Look in the water beside you!’ We all turned and there, sure enough, floating in the water right next СКАЧАТЬ