Atlantic Diary: Last Wednesday Paul Gleeson from Limerick and Tori Holmes from Alberta, Canada, set off from the Canaries on board their boat Christina in the 2005 Atlantic Rowing Race to Antigua, West Indies. This is the first in a series of diaries on how they are faring

PAUL: Our spirits are high right now, but we've had quite a week! The start on Wednesday was great, very exciting, but we weren't too nervous. When we got out from the Canaries there was a bit of a swell but we were okay with it.

It went wrong fast: within three hours I was puking over the side. That lasted nearly three days. In our training neither of us had got sick, but down here it's different and we both got hit. I was just so weak.

We kept going, but we didn't make the progress we expected. For the first three days it was like stirring tea with our oars and just trying to survive.

TORI: For two days I was just as bad as Paul. I was weak. But we said 'this will pass'. And now we're both grand.

But then on Sunday we got a text from the organisers saying there was a hurricane. When we finally got hold of them they said it was further north than us. But we thought: what was that about? Did we really need to know about that? On Monday we had a huge crisis. Our water maker died. We were so absolutely freaking out - we paid colossal money for it and now it's not working.

We had a few options, none of them good. We could call the support boat and they would give us water - but that would mean we would be disqualified. We could use our water ballast, but that could leave us short. We tried the emergency pump, but it was so frustrating. One of us rowing and the other pumping for hours, just to get us drinking water.

PAUL: I got in touch with somebody I know on the organisation side over the satellite phone to try to get the water maker fixed. It could have been air trapped in the system. He tried out different things, but at first it just didn't do the trick.

Tori was finding the pumping so tough. We were looking at either going back to the Canaries or going on and ending up very, very dehydrated. We have to add water to our packs of food to make it edible as well as needing drinking water. It was by far our worst day in the first week.

On Tuesday morning the water maker was back and we had breakfast together and we felt good. We thought: over the 50 or 60 days we're out here the water maker breaking was probably the worst thing could happen bar we sink! We are pissed off that the things that have happened have slowed us down. We were so tired. At night you're screaming at yourself because you can barely keep your eyes open. I caught myself asleep at the oars.

We're through that now. I do a reading at 12 o'clock each day and our distance covered each day has improved. We were hoping to go south from the start to get to the trade winds but we were pushed more west than we'd like. By Tuesday we've found the winds much more in our favour - a north-east wind is pushing us exactly where we need to go.

Rowing is hard on the hands and the two of us have shovel hands, nearly numb. We're rowing naked because that way you don't have salt caked in your gear and you avoid some chafing, but when Tori puts the sun cream on my back it feels like she's drawing two bricks across it.

The other bit of your body that suffers is further down, and we both have chafed bums! The weather conditions have been good, a bit overcast some of the days but we've had some sunny, fine days. We've seen nothing of the other boats once the first few days were over, but Tori's mum texted us on the satellite phone - we didn't even know you could text a sat phone! - to tell us there are two big ships ahead.

At night you spend some time looking over your shoulder, in the direction you're headed, and you check the compass. The shifts between 12am and 2am and 2am to 4am are quite hard. There have been some spectacular nights, with shooting stars, but when there isn't a moon it's really, really dark.

Overall, once the water-maker crisis was resolved it has become enjoyable to an extent. At 60 nautical miles a day covered, which we see ourselves doing, the 3,000 nautical miles of the journey seems an easier length.

It's been an interesting week alright. But it's all part of the adventure.