Yesterday's conversation with Tim Crockett is a deep look at what happens to a person — physically and mentally — when they row a 24-foot boat solo across 3,000 miles of the Atlantic Ocean. Tim is a former British Special Forces member who completed the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge in 63 days to raise awareness for veteran mental health. I sat down with him to hear the full story of what happened out there.
Press play in the YouTube player at the top of this page, or scroll back up to watch. Available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, and iHeartRadio.
Tim Crockett is a former British Special Forces member and ocean rower who completed a solo crossing of the Atlantic Ocean as part of the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge. He rowed from La Gomera in the Canary Islands to Antigua in 63 days, 2 hours, and 37 minutes. He founded the nonprofit Tame the Kraken to raise awareness and funds for veteran mental health issues, PTSD, and suicide prevention. He is based in Georgia.
Tim completed the crossing in 63 days, 2 hours, and 37 minutes. He had originally planned for a 50-day crossing based on two to three years of data from other solo rowers, but a combination of unfavorable weather, a knee injury sustained on day two, and a failing autohelm steering system extended the journey by nearly two weeks.
The Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge is an ocean rowing race that starts in La Gomera in the Canary Islands and finishes in Antigua. The year Tim competed, there were 28 teams with 88 total rowers. Five rowers competed solo, including Tim. Twenty-seven of the 28 boats finished the race. The race was in its twenty-first year when Tim competed.
Tim chose to row solo specifically to draw comparisons to the isolation and loneliness experienced by veterans suffering from PTSD and mental health issues. He wanted the challenge itself to mirror what those veterans go through — being alone, facing compounding problems, and having to rely on what is between your ears and in your heart. His nonprofit Tame the Kraken was built around this mission.
Tim sustained a knee injury on day two when a wave hit while he was climbing into the cabin. Around day 11 or 12, his autohelm steering system failed, which forced him to manually steer the boat while rowing solo. The fleet also experienced three distinct periods of almost no wind, which is the opposite of what rowers need in the Atlantic. On his worst day, even with a sea anchor deployed, he drifted backwards two miles. He rebuilt the autohelm four times during the crossing, and it finally died for good two miles from the finish.
The final approach into Antigua was the most dangerous part of the entire 63-day crossing. Tim was pushed toward the cliffs by southeast seas, his autohelm failed for the last time, and at one point he was fifty to sixty feet from the rocks with waves crashing against them. It was the only time during the race he put on a life jacket. The full story of how he cleared the cliffs and crossed the finish line is one of the most intense parts of the conversation.
Tim was one of the very first guests I ever had on the podcast. When I originally talked to him, he had not done the race yet. He was still preparing to row across the Atlantic. I followed his crossing the whole way, and when he finished, I knew I had to get him back on to hear what actually happened out there. This is a guy with a Special Forces background who chose to row 3,000 miles alone in the ocean to raise awareness for veteran mental health. I have done some endurance events myself — Seal Fit Kokoro and GoRuck Selection — and the things Tim describes about isolation, compounding problems, and what happens when you cannot quit hit me in a way I did not expect. Press play in the YouTube player at the top of this page.
Before the race, someone who had rowed the Pacific told Tim the autohelm would be the first thing to fail. Tim was told to bring a second unit, maybe a third. He wrote it down in his notebook. He did not bring the spare. Around day 11 or 12, the autohelm died, and there is a story about two hours of spinning in circles — getting pushed broadside to waves, nearly capsizing, tying gear back down, and wanting to throw the oars away — that I am not going to try to retell here. Tim rebuilt that unit four times and rigged an improvised cooling system with baby wipes and a USB fan. Listen to how he describes the moment he realized the spare was not on board.
Tim is an introvert. He has a Special Forces background and has operated in isolation in some difficult parts of the world. He told me none of that fully prepared him for what the boat did to him mentally. The part that stuck with me is not the loneliness by itself — it is what happens when loneliness stacks on top of a torn knee, sleep deprivation, broken equipment, and flat calm seas in ninety-degree heat. Tim describes calling his wife for relief and then feeling worse after he hung up. His wife had to verbally slap him around more than once. Worth hearing in his own words.
After 3,000 miles and 63 days, Tim expected a calm finish into English Harbour. He got the opposite. Southeast seas pushed him toward the cliffs of Antigua. His autohelm died for good. His injured knee was the only backup steering option. At one point he was fifty feet from the rocks, waves crashing above him, and he put on a life jacket for the first and only time of the entire crossing. I do not want to write how it ended. Watch that section in the YouTube player at the top of this page.
Tim played rugby. He served in the Royal Marines and Special Forces. His default setting, as he put it, was brute force and ignorance. The ocean broke that out of him. There is a moment in the conversation where he talks about his wife and a teammate getting him to realize that rowing with all his might for hours was not the smart move — and what he did instead. I have done enough endurance work to know that lesson is real, and Tim tells it better than I can summarize. Listen to that section.
Tim did not row the Atlantic for the personal record. He did it to raise awareness for veteran mental health, PTSD, and suicide. When he got to Antigua, he felt like he had not done enough. Then he realized the row was not the end — it was the beginning. His nonprofit Tame the Kraken is a registered 501(c)(3), and he was in the process of planning a shorter charitable race from Grand Bahama to Charleston when we spoke. The way he frames what comes next is worth hearing. Press play.
I have done Seal Fit Kokoro and GoRuck Selection, and those events changed the way I think about teams and isolation and what happens when you stack problems on top of each other. Tim's experience on that boat is the most extreme version of those lessons I have ever heard someone describe. Sixty-three days alone, twelve to fifteen hours of rowing a day, three to six hours of sleep, a body that was literally wasting away because he never stood up. The article gives you the topics. Tim gives you the weight of it.
There is a quote Tim posted on his website the morning we talked: "I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do." That is what I took from this conversation with my friend Tim Crockett.
Press play in the YouTube player at the top of this page, or scroll back up to watch. Available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, and iHeartRadio.
Sachay Blythe · Sean (team captain) · Silver Fox (weather router) · Rob Ceravolo · Colin O'Brady · Edward Everett Hale · Winston Churchill
Tim Crockett is a former British Special Forces member and ocean rower who completed a solo crossing of the Atlantic Ocean in the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge, rowing from La Gomera in the Canary Islands to Antigua in 63 days, 2 hours, and 37 minutes. He founded the nonprofit Tame the Kraken, a registered 501(c)(3) based in Georgia, to raise awareness and funds for veteran mental health, PTSD, and suicide prevention. He has spoken to rotary groups, explorers clubs, and other organizations about his crossing and the mission behind it.
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