Erden Eruç: In His Own Words

The boat went over about 150 degrees. Everything got rearranged in the cabin.”

STATUS AND OCEAN ROWING RECORDS

As of Feb 12, 2022

Day: 208 — Apra Harbor, Guam

Odometer from Crescent City to Waikiki: 2,646 miles

Odometer since Waikiki: 3,566 miles

Overall career total about 25,492 miles. (Ralph Tuijn of the Netherlands leads with 35,635 miles.)

New world records:

Solo career total: 1,053 days

Overall career total: 1,137 days

From a Dec. 7, 2021, satellite phone interview from his rowboat, hosted by The Explorers Club. Edited for length and clarity.

All told, I’ve spent about three years in this rowboat.

This morning, I am at a position 80 miles south of Wake Island (bound for Hong Kong). Ever since the storm that knocked my rowboat down in the early hours of Dec. 3, the winds remained at 20 plus knots and the sea state is 12 to 14 feet.

I was in the cabin the night of the storm just a few days ago. The wind was blowing hard from the southeast with swells from the northeast. The wind started changing directions to east-southeast, which meant the boat turned with the wind but was broadside to the waves. One of them crashed into the rowboat, caused some damage, cost me two spare oars. The boat went over about 150 degrees. Everything got rearranged in the cabin.

I was tied to the mattress on purpose to make sure I kept the center of mass low. The worst thing that could happen would be that I am thrown onto the ceiling on an upturned vessel; that shifting of ballast means the boat would never right itself. I basically had to stay tied down until the morning before I could do anything else.

I have not rowed since two days prior to the storm, remaining in the cabin on starboard tack. My mileage remained above 30 miles per day.

The tropical heat and humidity have made my time in the cabin miserable. Yesterday morning I woke up past midnight soaked in my own sweat.

Fortunately, the winds were finally down to 19 knots yesterday and I took care of washing. My water maker is working well unattended, unlike before Waikiki. I can remain protected from salt spray waiting over an hour while my water jugs fill with a steady stream of fresh water drips, then take care of the washing.

I don’t have a support vessel; they would get bored out of their minds as I move at a walking pace. The idea is to make these crossings unsupported, without help from other vessels taking or giving things, other than information really. 

My main staple is freeze-dried foods. I have 290 watts of (solar-powered) battery capacity to make water using a desalinator and a handheld camping stove to boil water to reconstitute the food. I have dried fruits and nuts and raisins, and a once-a-day vitamin pill.

If a flying fish winds up on my deck, I may add it to my breakfast; the boiling water for my scrambled eggs is hot enough to cook through that small fish. That’s about the extent of my fish diet. Cooking is a long, laborious process and in these conditions — 12-foot waves in 10 second periods — right now as I’m talking to you, I’m getting slammed by waves. It’s just not conducive to life on a small rowboat.

I have a four-person offshore life raft and an EPIRB (distress beacon) to call for rescue, so I am set up for that kind of emergency.

I don’t get seasick anymore. My lizard brain has learned the behavior and movement of this vessel. I do get sea legs when I get to land and that lasts for 36 hours or so, especially when I’m bending down tying my shoes or something. I did get seasick early on when I started with these rowboats, that was back in 2005, but I haven’t since.