On Monday, March 1, Steve Chetcuti will start to row across the Atlantic. He talks to Adriana Bishop about the physical and mental preparation for such a gruelling journey which he will undertake in memory of his brother Michael and to raise funds for Hospice Malta.

It’s crazy. There, I’ve said it. And now that we’ve all agreed it is crazy, we can move on and focus on what really matters. For this is no hair-brained midlife crisis. This is a journey like no other.

A journey borne out of the deep pain of loss, a journey that will test the extreme limits of human resilience, of physical endurance, mental strength and courage. Which is not to say that this is a heroic venture, because Steve would be the first to hold his hand up and declare “I am no hero”.

The real heroes, as he emphatically points out, are his much missed brother Michael (known to many as Cuti) who passed away from cancer two years ago and the carers, doctors and nurses especially the team at Hospice Malta who helped the family in those dark days. 

And it was right after Michael’s death that Steve realised he wanted to do “something big” to honour his brother’s memory and “repay” Hospice for all their assistance. And he is being true to his word.

Ocean rowing is not such a new sport although, unsurprisingly perhaps, not many have attempted it. While almost 5,000 people have climbed Everest, only 300 have rowed across the Atlantic Ocean since the first recorded crossing in 1896 when two Norwegian-born Americans rowed from Manhattan to the Isles of Scilly in 55 days and 13 hours.

Steve will be attempting the 6,000km journey from Portimao in Portugal to Kourou in French Guiana. If successful, he will be the first Maltese to cross from mainland Europe to mainland South America.

He will join a crew of four others: Dutch skipper Ralph Tuijin who will be on his tenth crossing, Spain-born French rowing instructor Dolores Desclavaliere, Georgios Ardavanis from Greece and Patrice Maciel who will be rowing back home. The journey can take up to 60 days or more but Team EU (as they call themselves) hope to break the current world record of 48 days four hours for the Trade 2 route. If they are successful, they would make land on April 17, Michael’s birthday. 

And when they set off in their Rannoch 45 boat on March 1, weather permitting, it will mark another first for 50-year-old Steve – this will be the first time he will be rowing on the open sea. For Steve, now living in land-locked Switzerland, has never rowed on the sea. In fact, up till two years ago, he had never rowed at all.
“I had been canoeing in Malta a very long time ago and as a teenager I had this idea of paddling around the island in a bath tub as a charity stunt but never did it,” he chuckles. Ah, not crazy at all then. 

Training to break a world record

Faced with the enormity of the challenge, Steve’s sense of humour keeps him sane and grounded. It’s what gives him the strength to smile at 4am when he’s 16 hours into a 24-hour training session.

“Mentally it’s up and down,” he confesses after one of his last day-long sessions before the crossing during which he rowed for two hours, resting for two, for 24 consecutive hours mimicking the relentless routine he will endure on the boat. “It’s a hugely tough challenge and I don’t know what will happen. But I will never give up. It’s better to have two months of physical pain than a lifetime of mental regret. It doesn’t mean I am not scared and worried though.”
The training is also taking its toll on Steve’s body.

In November he had to take two weeks off his training schedule to allow his hands to recover from operations to relieve carpal tunnel syndrome in both his wrists. It is a fine line between preparing physically for an endurance challenge and arriving at the starting line already tired from the training.

Honouring Mike’s memory

Sports was always part of his life although more so since he moved to Switzerland. A veteran of four marathons and sprint triathlons, he ditched his cigarettes-and-processed-food lifestyle after emigrating from Malta and adopted a healthier, more sporty approach following the birth of his first daughter in 2004. 

But it was the death of his older brother Michael that really marked the turning point. “Mike had loads of friends, he was very popular, the opposite of me. He used to organise these big parties. He was very good with people and was always wanting to help. He used to organise raffles at work during the Christmas parties to raise funds for charity, among many other things,” Steve reminisces.

How many nights are you going to cry? At some point I thought I need to do something constructive.

“Mike and his wife worked hard to help their daughters overcome the trauma of their father’s illness but Hospice helped so much. When he passed, I wanted to do something to repay Hospice and to honour Mike’s memory. How many nights are you going to cry? At some point I thought I need to do something constructive,” he continues.

By pure chance, he happened upon a television programme on a local Swiss channel about ocean rowing. He initially tuned in only to improve his German but was soon captivated by the idea of “this tiny boat battling a huge wave.” 
“I thought that was really cool,” he enthuses. “I immediately thought this would be something great to do and to inspire people. I knew this would be a huge, huge challenge but that is what I wanted.” And the fact that he was starting quite literally from zero did not deter him. 

Steve started off by doing some research into ocean rowing, secretly watching YouTube videos about it. “At first I didn’t want to tell my wife because I knew she would worry so I would watch the videos in secret. Of course, she noticed. I initially wanted to do a solo challenge and row the Atlantic alone. She wasn’t keen on that idea. Then we compromised when I found a seat on this boat. She is now very supportive even though my training schedule is a bit of a strain on family life. I am constantly training. She is worried but she has seen the levels at which I am training and preparing for the challenge. Without the support of the family either the family breaks up or I don’t do such a trip.”

For the past two years Steve has been training up to three times a day for a total of four hours complementing endless hours on a rowing machine with running, lifting weights and HIIT. By the end of this month he would have clocked 8 million metres in 700 hours of indoor rowing. He’s had some “real water” rowing time on local Swiss lakes including a stint with the Swiss Raw team who will be participating in the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge rowing race next December on a boat identical to the one he will be using for the Atlantic crossing. 

One 24-hour training session in late autumn on the Halwilersee lake near his house proved particularly tough. “I had to do it alone. It was dark and terribly cold. I slept, or tried to sleep, in the car but it was freezing cold. I have no idea what motivated me to get out of the car at 3.45am. I thought: that’s it, I am going home. But three minutes later I had changed clothes and I was back on the water rowing. There were massive dark clouds. Whenever I turned round I could see nothing. It was scary. Dawn came, I had just finished a two-hour rowing stint and my wife turned up with fresh sandwiches and hot coffee. It felt like Christmas.”

But the hardest part is the mental preparation. “Up till recently I was not sure how to deal with this mentally. Reaching the destination is part of the goal but not the goal. The goal is the journey itself. I tend to be goal-oriented but I am working hard to change my mindset. I want to enjoy the journey. I have also started doing breathing exercises to reset the brain from panic, fear and demotivation to start thinking rationally again during difficult times. 

“Failure is not an option. I can’t decide to abandon the trip half way through. And I have no intention of doing so.”

What keeps you up at night, I ask him. “There is always the fear that I won’t manage to do it. What if I don’t make it? But I try to say: what if I do make it? I sometimes literally wake up and think: what the hell am I doing? I am never going to make it. But then I wash my face, put on training clothes and get on the rowing machine.” 

In September, just six months before departure, Steve confessed to being overwhelmed with misgivings about the whole project. Physical and mental fatigue combined with the pain in his hands, COVID-19 isolation and the inability to fly home were all taking their toll. 

At the time, Steve was also dismayed at the lack of uptake in his fundraising efforts. “Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat in near freak-out mode wondering what the hell I’ve got myself into,” he admitted at the time on his blog. 

“Despite this, I am resolute in carrying out the crossing, even if it’s the last thing I do. The determination to get to our final destination of French Guiana has not waned. Not even a little bit.”

The trip

Steve is paying for all his trip expenses which amount to several thousands of Euro including the investment in training equipment. In fact, Steve insisted this should be highlighted as he wanted to reassure people that 100% of any funds raised will go directly to charity and not to pay for his trip. 

Moreover, he has sacrificed two years’ worth of leave from his job as global corporate communications manager for Swiss-owned international food company Hero Group. And that’s not to mention the time away from his family. “My three daughters don’t complain but I do feel that I should be doing more with them, I should be helping them with homework rather than rowing on a lake all night long,” he concedes.

The challenge is exciting, of course, but it is certainly not anyone’s idea of a holiday. This is no basking-in-the-sunshine kind of trip and the relentless rowing schedule will leave little time for “enjoying” the scenery. The crew of five will squeeze into a specially designed rowing boat 8.5m long and 1.7m wide. Designed by ocean rowing marine architect Charlie Pitcher, the mono-hull Rannoch 45 (which the team have nicknamed “Rose”) is made of Kevlar and carbon with two cabins on either end. Despite its petite size, the boat can withstand the harshest weather and when the cabin hatches are closed it is self-righting so if it capsizes it will return back to its “normal” position. 

It’s better to have two months of physical pain than a lifetime of mental regret.

Living conditions are restricted to the two tiny cabins and the crew will take it in turns to rest and row in two hour shifts round the clock. There are no showers. The toilet is the red bucket not to be confused with the black bucket which is the shower bucket. Fresh water will be produced via an onboard mini reverse osmosis pump. 

The crew will be unsupported so they will have to take all their food for the journey with them. And no, there is no kitchen on board either. Meals will consist mainly of freeze-dried food which will be rehydrated using hot water from the onboard jet boiler. Each rower will consume on average 6,000 calories a day but they still anticipate to lose between seven and 10 kilograms in weight by the end of the journey. 

“When we reach French Guiana I will order a huge burger and a coke or a beer. I don’t normally drink coke but at that point the desire to drink coke will be very very high,” says Steve.

Focusing on the positives is what keeps Steve motivated. He’s particularly looking forward to swimming in the Atlantic. “One of my tasks will be to clean the underside of the boat so I’m really looking forward to diving into the sea. I always loved being in the sea. I want to enjoy it all the way not suffer all the way.”

But there will be other aspects which will not be so pleasant. Steve is bracing himself for the inevitable seasickness that will likely blight his first week onboard. “The first week is critical. There will be so much to get used to, not least the constant motion. In the first 24 hours your body is running on adrenalin so everything is fine, exciting, great. Then after 24 hours you burn off the adrenalin, your hands start hurting, the blisters get wet and sore, the bum starts to hurt.

The second and third day will be the worst. You’ll get the feeling this will take forever. You get tired and you don’t sleep properly. We will only have two hours of rest after two hours of rowing. In those two hours you don’t just sleep, you have to clean yourself as best as you can, maintain the boat and eat. Two hours is not enough to recover fully. Then seasickness kicks in. All the negative things happen then.

That’s when you need to build up the mental strength to keep on going. You can’t turn back. You can’t stop the boat. You can’t get off. Once you get over that stage, you will still have the sores but you get used to them. The body gets used to saltwater everywhere. Everything will be wet all the time. Then it gets relatively easy.” Relatively speaking. 

Ready to go

Companionship with fellow crew will be important but Steve will only find out how well they will get on once the trip starts. Covid restrictions have kept the crew apart so far and after months of Zoom meetings and WhatsApp chatting, they will finally meet in person for the first time a few days before departure. 
Steve went to great lengths to explain to me how safe the boat is, not least because his wife Desiree, his relatives in Malta and friends are probably reading this too.  

“The boat is powered by solar panels and has all the safety technology equipment like any normal ocean-going vessel, just on a smaller scale,” he points out. “This is not bravado. We are not risking life and limb just for the sake of it. We will be equipped with mappers and GPS trackers. If a piece of equipment is in the water for more than a few minutes, it will automatically send an alarm out.

We have another piece of equipment which scans the water within a five kilometre radius around us. If there is a large tanker within that range, an alarm goes off and we can get on the radio to warn them as they will otherwise not see us. We also have a life raft on board and as soon as this is activated it starts sending out an emergency beacon signal.” All very reassuring.

“We are always tied to the boat,” he adds. “Even when swimming we are always tied on. We can’t take any risks. You can’t fight against nature. You have to abide by certain rules to make sure you are safe.” 

As the countdown to d-day approaches, Steve is now busy putting together the items on his very long packing list into as small a bag as possible. As they are trying to beat a world record, they are conscious of how much weight they will be carrying. “Less weight means we’ll go faster,” he says.

And what do you pack for a 6,000km row across an ocean? Almost everything, bar the kitchen sink, it seems, as Steve ticks off the items including a sailing smock, socks and underwear, a warm hat, three different types of gloves, sleeping bag, head torch, antibiotics, travel sickness tablets (of course), vaseline, a tin of Burt’s Bees hand salve (indispensable), a tennis ball for massaging his back, goggles, special glasses for protecting the eyes from flying fish at night (a very real and painful hazard), and baby wipes to mop away the seawater. “I calculate three wipes per day for my ‘shower’ plus there will be other wipes for the poo.”  

With temperatures ranging from around 10 degrees at night to 20 degrees by day and much hotter the further south they travel, plus rain, the weather will be a challenge in its own right. However, most of the time the crew will be rowing naked sitting on sheepskin to avoid chafing.

I’ll be happy when it’s over but I will also be sad. They say these trips change you. Afterwards I will need to resume normal life.

I ask him if the packing list will include a photo of his family. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea or not. It might be a booster but it could also be a bit of a downer as I might miss them more. I might have one on my phone. I have asked the girls to each write a letter as a morale booster for me to take with me which I would only open when I am really down in the dumps but my plan is not to open them. I hope I will not need to.” The boat will also have a satellite phone and Steve intends to use it as his treat at the end of a gruelling week to call his family for two minutes. 

Row, rest, repeat for almost two months non-stop can get a tad boring at some point, assuming everything else is quite literally plain sailing, but Steve hopes that listening to audio books will keep him entertained and distract him from the more mundane parts of the journey.

On February 22 Steve flew out to Portugal to meet his crewmates, prepare the boat which is being driven over from the Netherlands by skipper Ralph Tuijin and row out for a final one-day training session before the big departure on March 1. 

The team are expecting to leave at 6pm on Monday evening. 

“I can’t wait for it to start,” he tells me, visibly excited. “I’ll be happy when it’s over but I will also be sad. They say these trips change you. Afterwards I will need to resume normal life. I will definitely spend a couple of weeks without rowing or doing any sports. I’ll need to give my family a bit of normality before I embark on some other crazy project. I doubt I will ever do anything as crazy as this but you never know. These things are a bit addictive.”

Steve’s focus remains, however, on the real reason behind such a journey. “For me it is a challenge but the real challenge is for the patients going through their terrible illness and their families. Those are the real heroes. Many don’t survive. The survivors have to deal with challenges which are far worse than rowing for 50 days. They face challenges which go on for a lifetime.” 

This article was first published in Sunday Circle. Read the full edition here: http://sundaycircle.tom-mag.com/31/index.html#issue/1