Sea Trials

Before leaving for the row, I visited my longtime boxing coach. He had been battling cancer for several years, and Jim was genuinely one of the toughest blokes I’ve ever known. I had seen him fight back each wave with gritted teeth, however, the cancer had won the war of attrition. The specialists had confirmed that there was no further treatment they could give him; to operate again would be too risky as he was down to a lung and a half after the removal. It was unlikely he would have come out of the general anaesthetic. I remember telling him about his condition, and I knew then it was simply a matter of time. His condition deteriorated greatly before I left. The last time I saw him, I had a good feeling this was the last time we would see each other, and I feel like he knew this too. I hugged him at his gate and said I’d see him soon, more words wanted to come out but in a somewhat stoic manner, we looked at each other with a nod, and I got in my car and left.

With the boat in the water it was time to get our sea legs and go through the sea trails to ensure we were competent and confident, since once we actually set off our fate was in our hands.

Chris’s role was as a facilitator in this endeavour. He wasn’t there to hold our hand but to provide us with the boat, some equipment, guidance, advice, and weather updates while on the water. The operation of the boat and route selection were ultimately up to us. He had given us a list of tasks to ensure we were 100% confident before we were out of reach of help. One of the drills was deploying the parachute anchor—a large parachute attached to 50 meters of rope connected to the boat. It was deployed whenever the wind made it impossible to row, effectively halting us in the water to prevent us from getting turned around in prevailing winds. Having it out allowed us a break from the gruelling three-hours-on, three-hours-off rowing routine. However, using the para anchor added time to our trip, which I wanted to avoid at all costs.

Mitch and Connor took to the oars, with Oscar sitting above the stern cabin giving directions as they navigated out of the Marina. This being my first time on Danielle on the water, I kept out of the way and observed—a third wheel on a boat. Danielle was a lot more stable than I’d previously anticipated.

We were making our own schedule of getting out on the water and going through our drills to make sure we were confident when out of reach of the land. When not doing that, we were spending time together getting bits of kit, wandering around the local town of El Tablero. Once the boat was prepped and we were making time to get on the water when the conditions would allow it, there wasn’t much to do. However, this gave us time to spend bonding, which was something we didn’t have the opportunity to have since fifty percent of the team had not met each other prior to landing in-country. I sourced some local devil's cabbage that got utilised on a few evenings in front of the TV, sharing a hazy laugh it set up some of the banter that would last our trip.

Chris informed us that our weather window had been pushed right. This was definitely a frustration for me, each day was another away from my family and although I’d only been away for a few weeks I knew I had many more ahead of me. It was Christmas time but you wouldn’t guess it in the Gran Canaria sunshine. My wife had been keeping me updated with the goings-on at home and sending me videos. Our daughter had begun to walk, seeing her waddle about in her winter body suit in front of festive Christmas displays reminded me of what I was missing out on. The wind that was delaying our departure also hindered any further activity on gaining some hours on the boat. With tools down for a few more days, we decided to have a night out, venturing down into Playas del Ingles, the main tourist destination on the island. Garish high-rise hotels, trashy neon-lit bars, and more Irish pubs than you can count—although the area was somewhat quieter than the norm, owing to the season and we were still in the thick of Covid, so all the bizarre social restrictions were in place. Sat at a table in front of the large screen showing the Boxing, we had a few beers, then I broke out the virtual dice on my phone. “Three Man”—a drinking game that involves a nominated drinker and forfeits for not paying attention—usually turns into carnage whenever played. It didn’t disappoint; everyone got pretty juiced up, and we managed to blow off some steam which had been building with all of the delays.

The next day we all felt worse for wear, and I spent most of the day in bed, which is rare for me. But there were no regrets; the night enabled us to bond closer.

Our days in the apartment were running out, and there weren’t many cheap options available, so we opted to rent a boat in the marina. It wasn’t ideal, but we made do.

Harry's mother and her partner were staying in Pasito Blanco, having rented a villa to see Harry off. However, with him not being released from the Marines, they had opted to come regardless and treat it as a holiday. A couple of the lads took them out for a small trip on the boat to thank them for all of their support. I hadn’t been able to get onto the boat prior to the trip, and in our schedule was a night row, which we fitted in. I was a little apprehensive but grew in confidence with each hour we spent rowing up and down the coast. Once at ease with it, we headed back to the marina. I slept better that evening knowing that my first night of rowing wouldn’t be my virgin one.

Harry’s mum and partner, Thirza and Phil, were very hospitable and offered to put us up for a night while we transitioned from the apartment to the boat on the marina. They cooked for us, and we shared a nice meal together, engaged in discussions about adventure, with Phil recounting his motorcycle tours of Europe. During the evening, I received a call from one of Jim’s daughters informing me that he had passed away that day. They were worried I might set off before hearing the news, so they made an effort to let me know. I shed a tear for him as I spoke on the phone, composed myself, and then joined the others at the table.

The following day, we moved our kit onto our rented boat. There was still a lot of running around—fixing and grabbing kit and any last treats for the voyage. Our GPS repeater, which was on deck to provide us with our bearing so we could navigate ourselves, was broken. We tried to replace it, but unfortunately, at this late stage, it was impossible. So we decided to use our compass, which was attached to the deck between the legs of the steering position. When rowing, you’d have to stop and look down to see if we were on track via the bearing given by the GPS within the aft cabin. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Sailors throughout the centuries have done more with less, and we still had GPS to plan the route.

Brucey and Nutty, two extroverts who had joined us over this period, had previously rowed the same route a year before. This was the first time I was meeting them. That evening, they planned to drive across the island to see the owner of the hostel where they had spent a number of weeks the year before while waiting for their boat to arrive. They invited us as well, but there was only room for three, so Mitch opted to stay behind and ended up having dinner with Thirza and Phil before they departed the next day.

We set off to the other side of the island, arriving long after we had gone through all of our beer supplies. Once there, we met the hostel owner and talked for a while before walking around the corner to the local speakeasy—a tiny bar with a courtyard outside, where random plastic chairs and stools were scattered about, with people sitting on them and the low-lying walls. It felt how I imagined parts of South America to feel. We squeezed whatever last bits of knowledge out of Bruce and Nutty, listening to their stories and experiences on the ocean, how they managed as a team, and the elation as they landed in Barbados. We returned to the hostel for a nightcap, then Oscar and I shared a bunk bed in a room with a loud-snoring Russian. We returned the following day, admiring the beautiful mountain views that we missed the previous evening in the car, and stopped for some food. Arriving back at the Marina, it was the final bits of organization—dealing with passport stamps, posting any belongings home. We had one more evening on the Airbnb boat. Then, the last night before setting off, we were homeless again, not wanting to spend more money on accommodation. We opted to split the group, and two slept on Danielle, and Connor and I slept on Bruce and Nutty’s Airbnb boat, which was also in the marina. That evening, we went for food at the nice restaurant on the Marina as a last supper. I remained there for a little while after the others had left, making a number of phone calls to friends and family, then finally went to bed.

The morning of departure, I had the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had on the flight out to Gran Canaria. I pre-recorded a few videos and sent them to Marina so she could show the kids at different intervals while at sea. I spoke to Marina, and after doing so, began to switch my mindset. I was feeling low knowing I’d be at sea for a few weeks without the normal channels of communication with my family. However, I was about to embark on a challenge very few people in the world would even consider attempting. I was at the start line, which was a challenge in itself; my wife and friends were more than supportive. There was nothing to think about when on the water other than the task at hand—an opportunity to tap into a flow state and truly live in the now, completing a challenge that would truly test us.

We did all final checks before leaving and when both Atlantic Dagger and Cockleshell Endeavour teams were ready, we set off. Chris, Bruce, Nutty, and others who had taken an interest in us within the marina of Pasito Blanco stood on the jetty and waved us farewell and wished us luck.

This was it…

Leaving the UK

The situation was less than ideal, losing two members of a four man team for a transatlantic challenge with a couple of weeks before flying out. It would be possible as a pair but I couldn’t justify the time away with my family, it was a heavy weight on my mind as it was and to extend the trip by 30 plus days was a non starter.

Thankfully in a bittersweet way a solution had been found, unfortunately another team had failed in raising the money to get the boat in the water and we were replacing our missing pair with two of them. They drew names from a hat to see who would be joining us. Connor and Mitch were the new members of Atlantic Dagger. I’m not a fan of FaceTime, I think it’s down to having a conversation with someone and then seeing my face staring back at me from the corner of the screen. The result is I think I come across a little stand off ish, however that was the circumstances of our first meeting.

We were proactive in ensuring all necessary team items were procured, collected and packed ready for our individual flights to Gran Canaria.

Mitch had only recently left the Corps and was bouncing round on the private security circuit.

Connor was a second officer on a merchant navy vessel who were contracted by the MOD, he was the Navigation Officer which a great relief and subconsciously we nominated him as our skipper.

Chris Martin was keeping us all updated with the transit information of Danielle (our boat) and it transpired due to Covid etc that there were delays with its delivery to the Canary Islands.

I was happy for the extra time as it was December and everyone was ramping up for Christmas and I savoured any time with my wife and children. Theo was at an age where he was more aware of the season and was excited with everything that went with it, yet at the same time I wanted this to be like a band aid and rip of off and get out there and on the water so I could be back with them all.

We decided to an early Christmas Day and did so the Saturday before I was due to leave, we fully committed to the day and the children did not miss out. It was a nice lazy day of opening presents, playing, enjoying Christmas dinner and watching festive films on the television. Weeks later on the 25th, out on the ocean I didn’t feel like I had missed out and relived that day in my mind.

It was a few days of checking and rechecking packing, a bit of kit fiddling and catching up with any faces before my fight out on the Friday.

The day of the fight brought back memories of deploying to Afghanistan. Excitement at the thought of testing myself in a extreme environment and seeing how I would handle the reality. Anxious at the thought that it could be the last time my loved ones and I would see each other if it all went tits up. I had this feeling of a heavy weight that sat low in my stomach which most soldiers are familiar with, late on the Sunday prior to going back to work after a long leave period.

My wife and children dropped me off to Bristol airport and I suppressed any real emotion and tried to get my head in to work mode. I kissed and hugged them goodbye and made an uneventful masked easyJet flight to Gran Canaria.

Upon arrival I began dealing with the process of picking up the hire car and the surprise addition of insurance extra payments. Then I was trying to plot the route to the accommodation using the address from my email, and bizarrely it was telling me to take a ferry to Tenerife. I got a hot sweat instantly, in the past I’ve made a few gaffs and mixed up dates when booking flights and bedding. I contacted the landlord, he put his English wife on the phone after the confusion of me trying to confirm the room was in Gran Canaria. She’s said it was indeed in Gran Canaria and that I should get a move on as it was early evening and her husband didn’t want to be out late welcoming us in to the apartment. I explained that the other two in the party had been held up getting off the plane, she misinterpreted this to be that we’re were delayed and began to tell me to leave as they could be hours. I was close to snapping at the silly cow as I was approaching the end of my tether, it was at this point Connor and Mitch walked up to me with big smiles on their faces. My face was clearly a different picture and that didn’t aide in making a good first impression. I promptly ended the call and led the lads to the car park, and began the drive across the island to our base for the next few weeks. My bad mood subsided with each minute and the ice was easily broken.

Oscar had gotten out there a few days prior and was staying with Chris until we’d arrived. He met us at the apartment as we got the guided tour. Once we had decided sleeping arrangements we went to the local corner shop and got some essentials and went for a meal and a few beers. The first time we sitting eating together as a team and by no means the last.

The first few days were quite relaxed as waited for the other team members from the other boat taking part, our briefs and mini lectures would begin when they arrived. Our apartment ran harmoniously, we were a 15 minute drive from the Marina but on edge of the local town so plenty of amenities available to us in walking distance. When the team of Cockleshell Endeavour arrived we had a brief and went through the actions on and all safety aspects of what we were doing. Helping Chris with the scrutinising was Nick, a quiet cerebral bearded Columbian. Having previously rowed the Atlantic solo a few years ago he knew what we were letting ourselves in for. He was assigned to our team and finally when our boat arrived he supervised the unpacking, checking off all items and repacking of the boat, giving us tips along the way.

At the same time an Irish lady was setting off from a neighbouring marina on a solo effort and we joined the others to wave her off. While she passed us we were discussing the shape of her boat as it was very different to ours, Nick explained that she was using a new shape. The bow cabin was larger to enable to catch the wind and act like a minor sail, he also explained that the vessel had a auto helm which meant it would be steered by GPS. Our boat was a classic model, which meant the stern (rear) cabin was the larger of the two and we had to steer the boat with one foot as we rowed.

If I’m honest, as I was made aware of this my immediate reaction was that I wished we had the newer shape vessel for what would make an easier trip. However this was wishful thinking, the reality being that any attempt to cross the Atlantic in a man powered rowing boat was an arduous challenge no matter what updates had been made to the small boat. We would find this out first hand soon enough. I reformed my thinking and rather than look at it as a disadvantage we lacked these design features, I saw it it as we were getting a grittier experience. This would later prove to be an advantage in itself when the going got tough a few weeks into the crossing.

We got the boat packed and lowered in to the Marina, only to have Nick to leave prior to us getting out on the water and conducting sea trials. The delays in getting the boat had exceeded what he and Chris had expected and Nick had to return to Columbia. We were all gutted as we began to form a good bond with him and he felt a level of responsibility for the team and wanted to make sure we were confident and squared away. Between us all, I believed we had taken much of what he passed on to us on board. 🥁

The two boat crews, Chris and Nick had a meal the night before he left, sharing stories, telling jokes and discussing the potential stories to come. The next day we would be getting out on Danielle in the sea around Pasito Blanco, I hadn’t yet been out on the water in a ocean rowing boat yet and in a week or so I was to be beginning a voyage of nearly 3000 miles.

No cuff too tough..

Getting the team together

It was time to start meeting the lads I was taking this challenge on with, first off Oscar and I arranged a meet. We organised to meet at a mid way point between Cheltenham and Bristol in a pub not far from the motorway junction.

It smacked with the feeling of a awkward first internet date, due to the covid situation at the time we sat outside in the pub garden. Over two pints of orange juice and lemonade we got chatting about why we had chosen to get involved in the challenge, our time in the corps, people we knew and how to get things moving regarding fundraising.

After an hour or so we shook hands and parted ways with plans to communicate on our what’s app group.

Ben who I’d met on the initial what’s app video call was tied up as he was spending his time training and raising money for a fellow PTI who had a accident during his instructor course and was paralysed as a result. Ben was undertaking a 24 hour ultra marathon whilst wearing a weighted plated carrier.

I decided to personally put forward an amount from myself since I feel when approaching any challenge like this that I wanted investment on all levels; financial, emotional and time.

The thought of seeing a photo of the boat in a photo in Barbados with my logo on it in twenty to thirty years time as I relive my youthful adventures in my memory seemed appealing.

I got organising a raffle too putting up tattoo time and other goodies such as clothing etc. Thankfully I know some good people and many people were offering their time, services and other prizes.

One of the lads had been very quiet on the group, to the point I didn’t realise he was on the team began getting involved in the what’s app chat and he popped in to the shop so we could meet. We had a pint after work and he ended coming to my family home for tea before meeting Oscar to get the boat to begin fundraising in his area with the boat in tow. Harry and I hit it off, sharing many characteristics and interests. He was still currently serving and based down at 42 Commando in Plymouth, one of my former units. He had been in for a number of years and felt he needed this challenge to help decide his future career path within the corps.

After waving him off I was confident we had a strong team.

Harry did well showing the boat off at local markets and chatting with people and taking donations. He also started to organise a black tie dinner in his home town near the Wirral. He did really well in getting numbers there from his friends and family but was unfortunate when trying to get the local Royal Marines Association in attendance as his date clashed with another event. The Royal Marines Charity were unable to support as they were hosting a dinner for the Corps birthday.

The raffle did really well and it was amazing and humbling to see people supporting myself and the charity.

On the run up to Harrys event Ben messaged the group and said that the other PTI who would of been covering him as he was at sea had been promoted, therefore he was unable to continue in the team. This was a big blow for the team but we remained optimistic and discussed who we could add the team to ensure we had right member to join us.

Harry and Oscar tossed around a few names of some mutual contacts. They spoke with them and providing the corps would release them from work, Joe joined Atlantic Dagger. He was currently out in Norway so would be unable to involve himself in the fundraising aspect of the project but from what the lads said he was a squared away soldier who had elite level fitness, just what we needed.

Harrys black tie event was upon us and it was late October. Time has a habit of crawling at a snails pace and the next minute you’re late, we were just making our targets to raise the money as they came. His event was a great success despite all the challenges he faced getting it together. It was good to sit and talk with Chris Martin at the event as it helped get my head in to the space needed for the coming months. I avoided drinking too much knowing we had an early start to pack the vacuum pack the food for the trip the next day, this meant being one of the only sober people there with a handful of people telling me about their ideas for tattoos on a drunken loop. However that’s part and parcel of being a tattoo artist at any event and everyone was in good spirits and was really friendly so it made it much less of a chore.

During his time getting things squared away and trying to organise time off, Harry had managed to upset those in his hierarchy. They felt unhappy that the corps didn’t have control of the challenge. There seemed to be a feeling that he was unable to be fully responsible in the coordination and execution of the row since he was only a Marine. In the armed forces the commissioned ranks seem to live in there own world and seem to come up with terrible ideas and simultaneously pat themselves on their back for them.

This is less so in the Royal Marines than other branches but is very much still there.

Some of the things put forward to harry from his officers were

“Can you push it right a bit?“ despite being amphibious Royal Marines educated to university level they were unaware of the seasonal swells that occur in our oceans.

“We need to work out how we can put the right wrap on it for publicity sake” translation being that we haven’t got an officer to take command of a team of young (Im far from youthful) marines and Junior NCOs.

Then the bad news hit. Harrys bosses said that Joe could go but Harry could not, however if he applied himself over the next 12 months they would consider letting him do it next year. He was to find another serving rank to take his place. It was a massive middle finger to Harry and the team as it stood to potentially sink the whole event for the team before we had even set off.

Our trio met round my house on a Thursday evening after he had been given the news. We discussed the potential options of how to move things forward. Harry and I were similar in our attitude and wanted him to go AWOL (Absent without leave). But Oscar was dead against this as he feared it would jeopardise the entire challenge. We had fun torturing Oscar with the zany ideas of disembarking in Barbados with a crew of MPs (military police) truncheons in hand, waiting as we taunted them from the boat. As much as I wanted the anti establishment pirate esq action of Harry to follow through with the idea in all seriousness it was selfish on my part. He had a wife with two children dependant on him and the potential of him losing wages, his career and potentially being imprisoned on his return just wasn’t worth it. We talked as a team for some time and eventually came up with a potential solution. There was a team who had been doing plenty of training and we’re all in date with their courses but hadn’t raised enough money. We could have two of their team and Harry would commandeer their funds and boat for 2022. It wasn’t an ideal situation, losing Harry was a great loss to the team and a step in to the unknown, sharing the voyage of across the second largest of the worlds oceans with two men we’d never met with just weeks before we left the UK.

That time I decided to row an ocean

At many a party or social gathering in recent years I would regularly get the same question popping up and had what seemed like an off the cuff response.

“So what’s next?”

“I don’t know? Maybe row across the Atlantic Ocean?”

The reply to that was normally a bit of laugher and a comment along the lines of “Fuck that!”

Although I would reply as if it was a throw away answer to such an open ended question, in all honesty the seed was planted nearly a decade beforehand.

Once leaving the Royal Marines I entered the world of private security, anti piracy to be precise. This found me working on a variety of merchant shipping vessels, from SAGA cruise ships, cargo vessels and mostly large LNG (liquid natural gas) ships. The company I was working for employed almost exclusively former Royal Marines, using that as their unique selling point to both the shipping industry and the insurance companies covering them. The piracy threat was at its highest a year or two prior to me joining the company and due to the rise of armed guards on many vessels the threat level dropped, plus many of the ships I worked on were far too big and fast to be considered by the would be pirates. The beauty of working with teams of former marines is that we all spoke the same language yet would be separated by decades and conflicts yet would have plenty in common due to the brotherhood nature of the corps. I had the opportunity to meet men who’s thirst for adventure didn’t die when they had left service, one of these individuals was Mick Dawson. I was informed by Bowe, the team leader that Mick had rowed a few oceans and over the next nine days of the transit we teased out some small stories of his experiences of his crossings over our meal times.

It really intrigued me how and why someone would put them through such an arduous challenge, a few things stuck with me about what he said. There was no where to hide when on the rowing boat as you spent most your time naked, even defecating into a bucket in front of each other and if you started the journey with a friend there was a strong likely hood that you wouldn’t be friends after. As with many things I take an interest in, I bought and read a book on the subject, I got hold of a copy of The Crossing by James Cracknal and Ben Fogell. It was an enjoyable read but the thought of living life for a couple of months 2 hours at a time, at the mercy of the weather and sea state. It was bad enough getting a boat from the shore to the ships and doing the cross boarding, they had been hairy enough at times and I felt the sea was somewhere I was really outside my element. The thought of doing it myself was well and truly put to bed, none the less the subject always intrigued me and I always took an interest in any articles I saw regarding an ocean crossing.

As the years past, bouncing from one challenge I had set myself to another, the idea of a rowing across the Atlantic had began to rear its ugly head. At first I began to give it conditions, for example I would only do it as a team of four. The reasons being that there is a bigger team which changes the group dynamic and its likely to be quicker, with two people rowing at any time you can shave weeks off of the crossing. Another thing I began to think about is if I were to undertake such a challenge it needed to be sooner rather than later as I had limited free time as it was and with the way my life headed i was only going to have less.

I don’t believe in fate or determinism yet i do think that we do manifest our reality to some extent, in the modern age this is made easier due to our access to people and information online, i digress.

So one of my customers who i was tattooing was a serving marine and his brother who was in the Army also did a lot of photography and video work and offered to take some pictures of some of my apparel that i was selling at the time. They teamed up and sent me a few images and used them and I subsequently began to follow his brother on instagram, he began to post some images of a Royal Marine team who were preparing to cross the Atlantic. As is the way with social media, i then began to follow them as it added water to the seed in the back of my head.

Before I knew it a few months had passed and I saw an image of the team arriving in Barbados, this prompted me to leave a donation on their fundraising page and look at their journey to this point.

Over the coming weeks I began to Google the potential to purchase a second hand ocean rowing boat, but as soon as I started looking in to it I then realised how little I knew and the mountain of a task in front of me to even get started.

Then sometime around April/May time I was scrolling through the stories on instagram when I saw that the Cockleshell boys had put up a post requesting volunteers to take up a challenge.

It was a vague post which sent my mind racing, was this just a short row for a few days up the North Sea or across the Atlantic. I was at work at the time and couldn’t stop my mind going through all the potential options, so rather then have that going on in my head I decided to shoot them over a message via Direct Message on the app.

I had a reply shortly after asking for my email address to send over all the information, I did so and then waited out for a response.

David Bruce sent me an email with a PDF attachment which roughy outlined plan for a self supported row across the Atlantic Ocean due to commence in December 21, seven months time! I sent “Brucey” an email asking if he would be free to chat at some point as I wanted to find out the finer points before approaching Marina with my own proposal. To which I got “Amazing mate, still plenty of time to go. There’s a boat with no crew yet or there’s a couple of pairs looking for extra bods. What’s your number I’ll add you to the group on WhatsApp”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I felt like my loose enquiry had been taken as an accepted application, it definitely seemed by design.

That evening I told Marina that I had something that I wanted to discuss with her, which always has an ominous feel to it. Once the kids were in bed we sat down on the sofa and I began to explain to that an opportunity had arisen for me to row the Atlantic. She first asked how long did I think it would take? To which I have a fairly conservative answer of around 5 weeks, it was my best intention to be as quick as possible but in the back of my mind I knew it was likely to be a longer trip. She half rolled her eyes and said I’d better get it done and out of the way whilst the kids were young and it’ll be unlikely that I’ll shut up about it until I’m done.

I then felt like I was in a position to reply to Brucey and obtain more background on what I signing myself up for. I shot him over a message and would call him when I finished work. It was a Thursday afternoon and once back home eagerly called him up, it turned out that he and the others in his grot (room) were having a few afternoon drinks. He seemed fired up to chat to me and asked if I had a team in mind or wanted to join a boat as there were a few others in my position. I explained that I was looking for a team myself and he stopped me and said he’d call back via what’s app with some of the other lads. Minutes later I was on video call with Brucey, Oscar and Ben. A brief intonation out the way we were left sat awkwardly looking at each other on our phone screens, out of a bit of nerves and my ability to drivel on about nonsense I took the lead a prattled on about ideas to raise money and we briefly discussed trying to get together for a few training sessions. It all was a bit of a blur (dum dum ting) however after finishing the call I felt really good. It seemed like a pipe dream of this happening was starting to grow legs. It felt like time to make it official and in the 21st century that seems to mean posting it on social media. So that’s what I did, my relationship with social media is like most peoples, something I require for work and maintaining contact with those I’m unlikely to see walking down the street, yet fighting the urge of getting sucked in. Procrastination is the enemy of action and social media feeds that cycle.

I had a great reception from a lot of people across my friendship spectrum, and my initial reaction was great but then I had the voice in the back of my head telling me that I’d put it out there and had to follow through. My fear wasn’t that I wouldn’t do it out of choice from my end but that we’d fail to get the boat to the start line and I’d whored myself on social media for nothing.

ThInk about it...

Last July my good friend Dan and I had the opportunity to manage our own tattoo shop. We have been friends for over twenty years and after being sat side by side for the last five we’ve come to the understanding that we can not only put up with each other day in and day out. We can even enjoy each others company and help and push each other further down our journey as tattoo artists.

ThInk studio is our concept of primarily a tattoo studio that you would be happy to take your mother to, a light and spacious studio that’s welcoming for a first timer or a seasoned collector. We also have the options for permanent make up and laser removal.

We have a vison to have a space to bring artists together across mediums and share knowledge through seminars and group paint sessions. We also plan to do artist exhibitions for emerging local talent

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Cyprus Tattoo Convention

As the month of March drew to a close a small motley crew of tattooists caught a flight to Limassol, Cyprus. We were told on good authority that it was a tidy little convention with a really friendly vibe, we weren’t let down.

We arrived to a sunny but cool Cyprus but after that first day when the convention began we had nothing but rain, however that made little difference to us a we all spent the daylight hours in the venue either tattooing, chatting to visitors, artists and generally soaking up the atmosphere. Right off the bat when we picked up some kit we were hiring the guys were so hospitable and it made me think how friendly this community can be when meeting other artists and traders in person.

During the first two days I tattooed Ryan who flew over from Bristol. We started a nautical sleeve and he was quite open design wise so that was great fun and he sat well which always helps! I didn’t have anyone booked in for the final day but ended up tattooing a Fabs, a British born half French half Cypriot lad. We tattooed three of his beloved pet dogs on his leg, one of which had been killed the year previously. It was a pleasure to do a tattoo when it means so much to the customer and he was a top lad making the final day fly.

We managed to get a few drinks in at the end of it all and said farewell to new friends, hopefully to return next year but my wife has plans on another child around that time so ill have to play it by ear…

Ink freeze

The older you get the fast the days go! I’m finding that I have less and less time to chase all the challenges I set myself but I’m guessing I plan better!

Tattoo Freeze

I tattooed at the Telford tattoo Freeze at the start of Feb and had a great time! I did some cool tattoos and met some cool people. I’m looking to guest at a few different studios in the future and made some good links. I’ve got a few more date lined up, check them out in the events page.

Movement on Blur Apparel has been slow due to my slim amount of time available but will be ensuring that picks up for spring.

Peace!

Summer Blip!

November is here and although we had a scorching summer its almost forgotten about!

Two key things have happened to me during this time. The first being the early arrival of my son Theo born five weeks prematurely whilst in Nottingham for my friends wedding! Needless to say the little ginger legend has taken much of my spare time!

If that wasn’t keeping me busy enough I decided to team up with a lifelong friend and start a clothing brand. I know right? How original? Not another fucking clothing brand! Today any wanker can just stick a logo on a top and post endless “inspirational” quotes on their instagram!

It all came about last year when I made a few t shirts to give to customers etc but numerous times I would be out and receive compliments on the design. So I thought why not give it a go, I ended up doing some designs and getting them made up in January. However all that know me well know that I’m not the most organized person, so I ended up sitting on them for ages until we finally got some shots done and the website made up.

Any way its now live and if you have ambitions of as looking cool as me but not as funny check out our online store and use code Blog13 for a weird percentage saving on your order!

Summer Heat

The month is hot and time seems to be flying! 

Half way through the year but life is going well; still no conventions booked but that's on my list of jobs to get sorted in the next couple of weeks. 

I managed to squeeze in a Ultra Marathon with a couple of close friends, after my last one I said I wouldn't do another unless I did it with a mate who was attempting his first. Someone took me up on that and its surely my last one on UK soil. The next one will have to be special as my body is starting to feel the strain. 

I have started a clothing brand with one of my long time friends and we are putting the final things in place to get that sorted. Keep your eyes out for that, I will be posting information and links on this website and my social media channels.  

If anyone wants to get tattooed at a convention near them please send me an email and if it's workable I'll try to make it happen? 

Peace