Rowing: Seán Kennytalks to Dubliner Peter Donaldson, one of three Irishmen among the team which have just set the record for rowing across the Atlantic

Peter Donaldson was walking in figure-of-eights when he came ashore in Barbados on Thursday night. Thirty-three days at sea in a rowing boat will do that to a man's gait.

The 48-year-old Dubliner was part of the crew of La Mondiale, which has broken the world record for fastest Atlantic crossing by rowing. The boat traversed 2,987 miles of ocean in 33 days seven hours and 30 minutes, scything a whole two days off the record of 35 days eight hours 30 minutes.

That time had stood since 1992, having been set by a French team also rowing La Mondiale.

"I felt the first twinge of emotion just a few miles from shore," Donaldson said yesterday. "Everybody's delighted, just happy to get here. I'm looking forward to some decent food. Have you ever tasted freeze-dried food? Sweet and sour chicken with no chicken in it? Or if you really hit the mother lode, Norwegian freeze-dried mashed potato with cod. People would die for that."

The crew faced the gamut of weather conditions at sea, as waters ranged from violently choppy to frustratingly slack. Adverse winds meant the boat was blown backwards on four days.

"We were a couple of days in a serious, serious storm. We had to use the sea anchor for 12 hours one day, 18 hours another day. We went backwards 12 miles one day, 16 miles the next. After the second sea anchor, watching the tripometer go backwards, you're sitting there and there's nothing you can do. I thought, 'there's no way we'll get back from this'. But slowly we drove on."

Teeth were gritted and further records fell. They covered a greater distance in a 24-hour period than any previous crew, having travelled 117 miles on January 3rd. La Mondiale also became the first ocean rowboat to make over 100 miles per day for nine consecutive days.

Tension crackled among the tightly confined crew.

"Well, what goes on tour stays on tour, but there was tension. Some guys pushed harder than others. One guy did snap. You expect these things, but it was a bit more than I had expected."

The physical strain of the journey caused Donaldson a back injury, which put him out of action for a day. Sleep deprivation became a low, throbbing constant on board.

"It slowly wore you down to the stage where you just functioned. You were actually awake by the time you'd get your shout 15 minutes before going back to the oars. I've no doubt I'll be in bed at night, give my wife, Anne, an elbow in the ribs and tell her, 'You're on watch in 10 minutes!' The crew will only slowly come back to normal life."

Some crew-members reported hallucinations. "I think they were hallucinating about hallucinating. Ah, there were one or two dramatic moments. 'I can hear dogs!' I heard shag all. All I could hear were 40-foot waves behind me.

"There were a lot of quiet moments too. One lad wrote a poem for his 18-month-old daughter at home. It was very emotional.

"Another lad wrote a poem called 'The Arse'. It was about how sore your arse gets, but it was the perfect poem and we could all relate."

Donaldson's plans include a swift and unyielding return to a diet of non-freeze-dried food.