For a moment we feel Rodrigo de Triana. What he experienced aboard the La Pinta caravel that famous 12 October 1492 sighting the New World, we had to relive it now. It was not properly land, land!, but glow, radiance! The dawn of 6 December 2001, just one day before two months after departure, I distinguished a distant glow from the bow of the Martha Two, very dim, but that visibly indicated signs of civilization. It couldn't be the moon because it hadn't risen in the east yet; nor the sun, who had already hidden behind the horizon hours before. Even knowing —by our navigation systems— that we were close, unless 50 miles, it seemed that the end did not finish arriving. All that long time of sailing without seeing land was enough. During the tour we saw some merchant ships, few sailboats and only one plane. On the contrary, we share experiences with hundreds of flying eces, tuna, shooting stars ... but no dirt. Only in our minds we saw earth landscapes. The mainland was made to beg.
It couldn't be the moon because it hadn't risen in the east yet; nor the sun, who had already hidden behind the horizon hours before
When Pancho woke up I told him, exultant: -Radiance!, radiance! You will not believe it! What a joy I took with me a while ago when west, on the horizon, I have seen a glow! It may be the lights of Barbados. What do you think? -No, I do not think so, "he replied impassively and without giving further importance to the comment.. The capital is much further south. How not to!, when I turned to show him where I had glimpsed that light, dense clusters made it difficult to distinguish what had made me so happy minutes before. But after a few hours and at the end of his shift, Pancho gave me back my joy: -Yes, Peter!, you were right, I've also seen the glow you were referring to. Is, definitely, Artificial light! Without pretending to sell the fur of the wolf before hunting it, without singing victory ahead of time and with the prudence that the occasion recommended, I couldn't help but start savoring the honey on my lips, the sweet fruit of triumph. If we had come this far, we had to step on land alive.
We continue moving forward and doing our calculations to arrive on Saturday morning 8 December. It was wise to take a daytime approach, always recommended when approaching unknown land. We knew that in the last few miles, near the port, were the HarrisonReefs, reefs causing the end of the illusions of more than one navigator. Already breaking the day of that 6 December, Pancho confirmed the great news to me: —Pedro, look west and see that little elongated spot with two mounds on the horizon. ¡It Barbados! -Yes! It looks like it is! —The disputed, radiant. It was our dream destination for two years; the end of an adventure for which we didn't mind risking our lives; the impossible challenge for many; the most sane madness, at least for the two of us.
We had to choose: arrive in darkness, accepting its dangers, or stay twelve more hours on the high seas
The night was dark, his blackness felt thick. It was inevitable, we didn't want to wait for the sunrise and we contravened all the nautical recommendations. We had to choose: arrive in darkness, accepting its dangers, or stay twelve more hours on the high seas. This second option was quickly ruled out due to the orange alert that had existed for days in that area of ??the Caribbean. The underwater volcano Kick‘em Jenny, submerged near the islands of Trinidad and Tobago, could erupt at any time, generate a giant wave and send us to take a fresh wind. No! We will not give that dish of taste to a possible tsunami, I convinced myself. Then Pancho's rest shift began, but, to the reciprocal, Skewer me: —Let's continue rowing the two together, let's go for all! In the background you could already see the entrance lights to the marina Port Saint Charles, where the regatta officially ended. An English voice shouted at us: "You must turn on the lights and then turn left to the tall building in the background!». Suddenly, port on the dock, fellow rower Peter Moore, had come just a day before we, struck a powerful white flare that lit the whole area. We got goosebumps; were dozens of people that cheered us, applauded, whistling… We could not believe, we thought that there would come at night almost nobody to greet.
I released the oars, I hugged and kissed Pancho. After taking off my safety harness, I jumped into the water dressed
It was 00.44 GMT hours of 8 December 2001, still 20.44 hour 7 in Barbados. We passed the entrance lights to the port but we did not know exactly where the regatta ended. Unable to wait any longer, I gave an exasperated scream: "But where the hell is the finish line?"! -It is done, boys, You have finished, congrats! - replied a powerful voice. I could not avoid it. I released the oars, I hugged and kissed Pancho. After taking off my safety harness, I jumped into the water dressed. What a thrill, what happiness, what a relief! Without a doubt, I experienced the happiest day of my life. It is said that the greatest pleasure comes after great effort. I can vouch for it. They were nothing more and nothing less than 2.835 nautical miles —5,250 kilometers — las paddles, as we check on our GPS, and 61 days, 15 hours 29 minutes the official time invested in the journey.
Already stomping for 48 hours, sleeping almost eight in a row, walking without being held by any umbilical cord, eating meat in abundance, Pancho; and fresh fruits and vegetables, I, and both enjoying ice cold drinks, we see these two months as something already past. Sometimes we even wonder: Was it an illusion? Another maxim had also been fulfilled: End, you only have what has been given. I am sure that all those who helped us to achieve this trip will have much, well they gave a lot. And especially to you, Ann, because you deserve it with all your heart, We dedicate the Atlantic crossing to Remo 2001.
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