The Ocean & Perspective
Reflections from the World’s Toughest Row 2025
Thirty-eight days. Over 3,000 miles. One ocean that gives, takes, and tests in equal measure.
For Grant McGregor, Tom Curtis, Tim Stone and Rhys Owen, rowing as Team Give Us A Wave, the Atlantic was not simply a racecourse. It was a proving ground. A place where preparation, partnership and perspective would be tested daily, often hourly.
We spoke to the team following their crossing to Antigua, exploring how mindset, performance and discipline shaped their journey across the world’s second largest ocean.
Q: Going into the race, were you driven by competition and placing, or was the true objective simply to reach Antigua together?
A: Before we left, we sat down as a team and agreed our objective. It was written clearly: to complete the World’s Toughest Row as safely and as fast as possible while also enjoying everything we would experience during the crossing.
That remained our compass. We rowed as hard as we could, but we never lost sight of the privilege of being there. Finishing 10th out of 43 teams is something we’re immensely proud of, but the greater achievement was holding firm to our purpose from start to finish.
Q: What strategies carried you through the hardest emotional stretches?
A: Consistency.
We committed to always keeping the boat moving, even during the oppressive heat when we were completely becalmed, with no wind and no current to help us. That meant rowers on the oars at all times and a shared responsibility for maintaining a positive mental attitude, whatever the conditions.
The Atlantic tests discipline. Progress belongs to those who persist.
Q: Did those difficult moments make you stronger as individuals?
A: Without question.
You learn that hard periods are never permanent. If you stay with it, better moments follow. Every sunset is followed by a sunrise. That becomes more than a saying out there. It becomes lived experience.
Q: If you could describe the Atlantic in one word after crossing it, what would it be, and why?
A: Compelling.
The ocean challenges you daily, but never in the same way twice. It gives and it takes. You know you will be tested, but you never know how or when. That unpredictability is what makes it so compelling.
Q: When did the scale and isolation of 3,000 miles truly sink in?
A: Around day three of thirty-eight.
We realised how little ground we had covered and how much remained. The early stormy nights, before routine had set in, were particularly sobering. Offshore perspective arrives quickly when land disappears behind you.
Q: Was there a moment when the ocean humbled you completely?
A: Yes.
We were just ten miles from Antigua when a rogue wave hit and snapped an oar. After nearly 3,000 miles, the ocean reminded us that focus cannot waver until you are safely alongside. Even at the threshold of landfall, respect is non-negotiable.
Q: How did your relationship with discomfort evolve?
A: We adapted to most of it.
Fatigue, salt sores, aching muscles and wet kit became familiar companions. The one thing we never truly adjusted to was the heat inside the cabins. It is difficult to describe how stifling it becomes and how hard it is to rest properly in those conditions.
Discomfort does not disappear. You simply become more capable within it.
Q: Did the simplicity of life at sea change how you view life ashore?
A: Absolutely.
Row, eat, rest, repeat. That rhythm sharpens what matters. We made a pact before the start to be kind to each other, to communicate openly and check in regularly. Working well together was essential. We believe we honoured that promise.
At sea, teamwork is not optional. It is survival.
Q: What will stay with you ten years from now?
A: The scale of the Atlantic. Its serenity. Its relentless presence.
The ocean operates minute by minute. Living inside that scale leaves a permanent imprint.
Q: Would you do it again?
A: Without hesitation. Yes.
