Ocean Calling - Linda ror Atlanteren

21/04/2024

Se på meg.

Dette er deler av en nyhetssak/artikkel fra nettavisa Frøya.no for noen dager siden. I denne saken melder de at Linda Evenstad Emilsen er en av fire nominerte til Årets navn under Frøyawards 2023.

Avstemminga foregår i disse dager på avisas hjemmeside. Hvem som blir kåra til årets navn, blir offentliggjort 30. april.

Jeg er kanskje ikke den som hopper i taket og jubler for slik oppmerksomhet. Jeg mer som bare registrerer det, og tenker først litt sånn "Å ja. Jaja."

Ved første øyekast kan det derfor kanskje virke som at jeg er uberørt, men tvertom er jeg ganske så berørt.

At noen fra et sted jeg er så glad i, har tatt seg bryet med å tenke mitt navn kunne være en passende representant for en lokal pris, rører ved noe fundamentalt i meg. Det handler om tilhørighet og anerkjennelse.

Tilhørighet til ytterdistriktene, kysten, kystkulturen, og sjøen. For en som drømmer om å bli en ramsalt sjøulk, treffer dette midt i hjertet. Anerkjennelse betyr mest når den kommer fra noen nært.

Jeg synes også på mitt vis at nominasjonen er en anerkjennelse til de krefter som er lagt ned lokalt særlig i Nærøysund og øyregionen Frøya/Hitra for å bidra til å realisere dette roprosjektet. For, roturen ble en realitet som en følge av andre menneskers engasjement: sponsorer, familie, venner, kolleger, bekjente, ukjente, både lokalt, nasjonalt, internasjonalt. Det kan ikke understrekes for ofte, uten at jeg skal gjøre dette til en tåredryppende tale.

Men jeg synes virkelig dette var en veldig, veldig fin, varmende, og overraskende overraskelse. Tusen, tusen takk til den/de det gjelder.

Et hjertelig ut fra Linda - sjøulk in the making.
no .no

25/12/2023

Looking back looking ahead.

I figure Christmas day is a good day to whisper “Im still alive”. Social media doesn`t fall all easily for me. So I have been quiet. I might go radio silence after this post too. That is likely, but we`ll see.

However, approaching Christmas has made me think back to the row. Spending last Christmas out at sea by myself, was wonderful. Joyful. Peaceful. Fun. I was throughout happy. I add a crappy photo of me opening presents on Christmas eve. It was so cosy, but Im not sure the picture does the experience justice, haha.

The evening after this photo is taken, I will be laying in my cabin in a wild sea state. The following 5 days I will be on and off paraanchor. During these days I will capsize, get knockdowns, break an oar and have a small fire in my electrical system to mention some.

Externally, all this was kinda dramatic. But the dramatic thing was really on Christmas day realising none of my satcoms were working leaving me no other means of communication than VHF (that only transmits with a ratio of a few nm).

I did manage to get the BGAN working again some days later, but laying in my cabin Christmas day I did not know that. I was therefore preparing myself to be completely without communication and support for the rest of the row, which I at that point in time estimated to be about 60-70 days (oh, how wrong I was about that). And I knew from the previous forecast that a big storm was about to hit me.

And here I am now, one year later, at home in Vikna, looking out at the flat sea, with some of my loved ones, consuming fresh, delicious hot food. The distance to last year is obscure in many ways. But in that distance lays balance, and I am forever grateful for being able to and allowed to explore both extremes.

My no1 take home message from both Christmas times in general and the row is just that: Gratitude. For people, creatures, the nature.

With that I end this nostalgic post where the purpose really was to have an excuse to say: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all you who supported the row. I will never ever forget the warm support, and I wish you all the best.

Lots of sea and salt to all of you.

Out.

14/05/2023

Words.
And a random picture from home.

Usually, I am full of words. But since being back home, I have experienced the impossible: I lack words. I want to say something about that and some other changes.

I have this feeling that no words are meaningful enough. But also that what I should be saying dont have words. Kinda. Surprisingly enough, this is a good feeling.

I also notice I am calmer on the inside. Im kinda in my own bubble still. I haven`t decided if thats good or bad yet.

I also focus more on the things that are most important to me, and I put it into action more easily. Not necessarily big things, but still.

My feelings and thoughts for the row are though still in line of "neh, it was just a thing I did". One of the other rowers expressed it very clearly, I think: Finishing the row is more like ending a phase in ones life rather than an achievement.

Perhaps that`s partly why I may feel awkward talking about the row? Because I do often try to avoid the topic - I feel so self-centered.

At the same time, I want to tell about the wonderful things that happened - it truly was an amazing experience. I should want to share that with others!

Also, being at sea is my only reference for the last four months,making it hard not to refer to the row in one way or the other. But, yeah, it is strange talking about it.

Still, the most striking change in me, is to what extreme extent I feel gratitude. All what I have experienced... It really makes me feel like... I dont know, perhaps it makes me feel very small, small in the right way.

This gratitude makes my words superfluous. Theres nothing to say,kinda, because this feeling goes far beyond anything I am able to express. Ah, it sounds so cheesy, but it is so true for me.

Despite being grateful, I am not content - stronger than ever before do I feel the obligation to try to act upon what I know: I need, should and am able to do something to take better care of the oceans, the nature and people around me. I can do something! I know that.

And this is someting I know I am obligated to make last. Therefore I write it here - to myself.

Still, thank YOU for reading. It truly, truly means tons.

Out.

08/04/2023

Antigua.

As you probably know, we reached Antigua. Yes, we reached Antigua. It is true.

We were slow. 113 days 4 hours and 50 minutes slow. Still we made it.

It is pretty surreal thinking of the enormous area of water I have crossed together with Brugda. I dont really understand it. At the same time I do get it also. It is a mix of understanding and not understanding.

That also describes my feelings: I dont feel much, at least not any pride or sense of achievement, accomplishment or anything similar. This is just something I have done. Its just a thing. I dont mean to be arrogant. But this is how it feels. Perhaps it will change with time.

At the same time, I am so, so, so grateful.

All what I have learned, seen, heard, experienced, felt... It is incredible, and I cant believe I am the one writing this post. I am beyond lucky.

And I am so incredibly grateful for all of those who have been cheering Brugda and me along. You did this with us. This never felt like a solo row. Thank you all who took part in this adventure.

That includes my wonderful, supportive sponsors. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the trust and support. Without you... I say no more.

I am also tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Tired beyond tired. But I get better day by day. It will though take some time before I am back to normal. Whatever normal is.

I dont even know if normal is a goal anymore. Things have changed. I am changed.

One change: I now know I can row an ocean. That is a big change. Everything is possible, it seems like.That is not something I am feeling, and I dont need to feel it. I just know it. I have experienced it.

Now the after play is on. I will try to tell a bit also about the life after such an experience, for those who are interested, but not now. Now I am entering my last day in Antigua before heading back to my family and friends in Norway. This row is not over untill I get a hug from my grandmother again. I cant wait.

But for now: A huge, warm and sincere thank you to all of you.

We made it.

Out.

https://fb.watch/jNIYtgQzh3/

04/04/2023

Here is the link to Linda's race finish livestream - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYkC747arWU, we expect to go live between 11:30 - 12:30 local time

▶️ TWAC 2022 RACE FINISH LIVESTREAM - Ocean CallingJoin us to watch our final arrival - Linda Evenstad Emilsen - Ocean Calling cross the finish line LIVE in ...

28/03/2023

OPPDATERT! Estimert tid for Linda er nå satt til 4. april, men følg også med på appen - det kan endre seg. Virgin Atlantic har jeg fått anbefalt fra arrangørene, men sjekk også andre ruter fra bla British Airways. Det er få avganger på Virgin Atlantic.

26/03/2023

Innlegg delt av Vibeke: Linda skriver seg inn i historien💪🏻💙

I tre måneder har Linda Evenstad Emilsen rodd og rodd alene over Atlanteren og nå er hun "bare" 770 km fra mål. I kjølevannet ligger det 4.030 kilometer med slit som nå er tilbakelagt.

21/03/2023

Alone.

So, the three month mark is here. Three months alone.

The time out here have made me contemplate quite a bit around just that, being alone.

I am alone all the time. If I want to communicate with anyone, there is no immediate way of doing that. I would first have to take out the coms gear, make sure it is safe to use and not exposed to sea water and water in general. I have to find a good position, a position it is possible to maintain despite everything moving around, and then I have to search around for the satelite and make the connection between the satelite device and my Phone. Then I have to wait for the connection to be made, and finally after quite a few minutes I can try to send some messages through.

Sometimes its easier and takes less time than others. Thats always a nice treat.

Often, however, the device get some kind of hickup needing a restart, or perhaps my Phone dont work properly.

When I finally reach the level where I can start communicating, it is mostly through writing I communicate. That is usually the easiest.

Writing everything I want to communicate is sometimes a hustle. It takes time and it often gives a feeling of little immediateness. So, communicating is work. Nice work, and a luxury, but work.

Another thing with communicating out here is that it actually takes time away from other things, mostly rowing or resting.

Due to this, I have not been communicating all that much. As I learn to use the gear better and as conditions are calmer, I am though using it more as it goes quicker.

When communicating takes this much effort and I do it as little as I do, I get a proper sense of isolation.

Isolation for me is not particularly hard most of the time. That is an incredible insight. But I do at the same time, and more and more, miss easy, perhaps almost meaningless communication with other people. There is a chime of emptiness lurking in my chest.

It is most evident in the mornings, and usually fades by 17 oclock, I have noticed. It may be strong, other times it is weak, sometimes it is not there at all.

This feeling and this situation is very temporarily for me, and I know it for sure will end. I am also in an extreme, fantastic and amazing environment. And I have chosen this entirily myself. In addition I have chosen it partly to exper just these kinds of emotions - emotions only brought by because of the extreme in my situation.

When noticing these feelings and thoughts it makes me think about how lucky I am. When I step onto land again, I step right into an enormous pile of love, care and attention. I am in temporary isolation, and not even complete isolation as I have satelite coms.

There are though so many who live in isolation not knowing if and when it will end. People who are sick, old, afraid etc. Isolated in their own homes, having to rely on others for interaction and communication. People who might live with this sore emptiness day out day in. Perhaps they are lonely even.

My own adventure has made me more aware of the effects of isolation. And it truly makes me like truly, properly, sincerely feel wholehearted lucky for my life and people.

Also out here I get so, so much support. There are so many people caring and showing engagement.

I have said it before, but say it again: I have never felt less alone than during this adventure. Thank you everyone. Thank you, thank you, thank you. All your engagement has really envoked in me both thoughts and feelings for humans that are just, yeah... I am so very grateful.

My adventure has also made it very apparent to me that I need and want to take more care of people around me, pay more attention, visit those I think about visiting, not in pitty, but because I always wanted to but did not make it a priority. And in general I want to show more that I care for those around me. This adventure has made that becoming a need.

I say this because in my everyday life I live all over the place, rush here and there, and I know my priorities arent what they should be. I knew that before stepping into Brugda too, but after this time just having my own mind and Brugdas imaginary mind as my immediate company, it is something it feels impossible to not act upon.

This adventure is changing me. It do give me some simple but true insights. These insights will probably be very easy to ignore when I get back to my daily life. And just that is the reason for me writing these post about it. I dont want to ignore it. This is me showcasing to myself one of the most important things to me: taking care of people.

So, yeah, now you have read a long post not saying much about the exterior of this adventure. Its not an update in a strict sense, but I do try to convey some of the changes that happen on the inside, perhaps a bit minute, but still.

Yeah, commitment to caring. People, animals, oceans and environment.

I feel it so strongly. I understand that that is because I live in my own world out here, that it is different when on land. But, still, it is true. Hm.

Ok, I stop there. I am now just saying the same banale things over and over again.

But, yeah, people. You people. Thank you for caring about me and Brugda and our little travel across a pond.

Out.