Please follow Twitter for the latest updates following Katie’s arrival into Georgetown (official arrival time 1607GMT). Katie is currently having a well-earned rest, but rest assured we will continue updating the blog and add photos when we get our hands on them. If anyone has any footage or photographs from Katie’s arrival, please email them to sam@pedallingalltheway.com.

Finally, thanks to everyone who helped out with Katie’s arrival into Guyana and provided her with a fantastic welcome, and to all of you following her progress throughout today and the last few months. Special thanks also to @demwaves, who provided most of the live photos throughout the day.

1620GMT — SHE’S FINISHED!!! Thanks to your fantastic donations and smashing the last $60,000 fundraising target, we’ve had to set one more new one! The new goal of $84,510 works out as $30 (i.e. clean drinking water for life for one person) for every one of the 2,817 miles from Dakar, Senegal to Georgetown, Guyana, the route that Katie has just rowed. Click here to donate.

[In case you're concerned, the water isn't brown because it's dirty — it's all the silt brought down the river.]

1612GMT — Guyana flag buntings welcome Katie into Georgetown. [via @demwaves]

1606GMT — “Katie Spotz’ brother and father on Guyana Coast Guard escort vessel. Slight foot pain but her brother says ’she is fine’” [via @demwaves]

1544GMT — “Katie Spotz moving slowly into port Georgetown due to tidal conditions. Demerara river visibly calm but current appears to slowing her down to dock. Still under Guyana Coast Guard escort with media crew aboard.” [via @demwaves]

1528GMT — Katie passes penultimate navigational beacon into Georgetown [via @demwaves]

1508GMT — The welcoming party can see Katie. Only minutes to go!

1442GMT — First photos of Katie approaching land [Thanks to @demwaves for the photos]

1440GMT — Pictures of Katie’s welcoming party waiting in anticipation.

1405GMT — Guyana prepares to welcome Katie to Georgetown, as she is tracked by the Coast Guard boat and a helicopter.

1337GMT — The Coast Guard have spotted Katie; she has 4 miles left to row and the tide has just turned, helping her in.

1247GMT — The Guyana Coast Guard leave Georgetown to find Katie and escort her through the final few miles

This morning I smelled something burning; either a passing boat was having a mean barbecue or my boat was catching fire. Not surprisingly, it was the latter.

My tracker unit has been acting up and took its final farewell up in smoke. I quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher and, being so close to land, I didn’t plan on taking any other course of action. Thankfully, all the glitches and malfunctions seem to be happening in the final days.

And they certainly are the final few, with less than 50nm to go. These final days have been similar to the first ones, with generally calm seas. Today was an especially nice day. It looked as though the water was sparkling the way the sun hit the waves. Hopefully these conditions will allow for a safe and successful landing, unlike the conditions in Cayenne. I’m so glad I extended the journey 400 miles, as a part of me is holding on dearly to the simplicity of the sea. During an interview, when asked what I think about while rowing, although my mind wanders here and there, for a large part of the journey I felt present; there’s no need to think beyond the moment.

I’ve also learned a thing or two about being patient, open, accepting… the list goes on. But with land just beyond the horizon, I’m most looking forward to food and good company.

I’m expecting to arrive tomorrow, with my dad and brother in Georgetown now, and soon a very special friend, Sam, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration all along the way. I’m not sure I would have made it this far without him.

This blog is coming a few days late as, at the time, the seas were just too rough.

I am the first to admit that the conditions so far have been nothing like a scene from “The Perfect Storm”, but certainly nothing like river rowing either. With no storms on the horizon, I thought I may not get the opportunity to test out the capabilities of my boat. On nearing the coast of South America, things changed very quickly.

Although it wasn’t a storm, there were several forces in opposition: strong winds and a strong current making for some powerful waves as I reached the continental shelf.

The understanding between me and the ocean changed too. Waves seemed to spike up unexpectedly with great force. Every moment outside was spent harnessed to the boat and I frequently questioned whether it would capsize. Everything inside the boat was tied down nicely, including myself by strapping myself in when sleeping. All “capsize ready”.

It was exciting to row in these conditions, but would certainly wear me down if I’d had to face these rough seas daily. My attention needed to be so focused as every passing wave was studied. You may have also noticed that my one-day mileage has nearly tripled from average, an example of the strength of the forces of nature pushing at my boat.

Here at 56W the current has slowed, although landing seems to be one of the biggest dangers and difficulties. But there’s only one way to find out, so let the rowing continue.

After meeting two Venezuelan fishing boats in the same day, I played it safe and did my evening shift with the nav-light on (I usually only leave it on while sleeping, as it can be difficult to watch for waves with it on). The light seemed to attract a different kind of visitor: a bird. It was flying rather awkwardly, almost like a bat, and found itself a spot in the cockpit.

Midnight … 2AM … 6AM … 8AM … it was still there. Most other birds leave by sunrise so I knew something must be up. And then it did it. It hobbled around, unable to fly with perhaps a broken wing. With a cockpit about 4-feet long, I debated whether or not this was the right place for an injured bird. I couldn’t bear to put “Hobs” overboard, so I let him stay.

After 10 minutes of rowing, I feared running him over with the sliding seat, so I fenced him in the corner of the cockpit with some snacks; they remained uneaten. Humans can have three days without water and possibly 10 without food; if that is the standard for birds too, I’m afraid Hobs’ days may be numbered.

With less than 150 miles to go, it’s now my personal mission to do what I can to save Hobs.

Katie is now within the final 150nm of her epic voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. Normally, that would still be a massive distance to row but, when you’ve already covered the best part of 3,000 miles (if you include all the wiggly bits!), it becomes the final straight. As many of you will know, one of Katie’s main goals with this expedition was to raise money in order to provide clean drinking water to thousands of people worldwide. This is a cause that Katie believes in passionately, as you can see from the blog she wrote a month ago, which you can read here.

Katie has currently set a target of raising $60,000, which would enable 2,000 people to get access to clean water for life. At the moment, the total stands at $54,100. I now have a challenge for you…

In just a few days’ time (probably Saturday or Sunday), Katie will set foot on land for the first time in over 10 weeks. Let’s hit the target before then so one of the first things she can hear is: “You’ve raised $60,000″.

You can donate now by clicking here and going through a few simple steps.

This is undoubtedly an ambitious goal and will take some effort. But hopefully a little bit of Katie has rubbed off on all of us these past few months – challenges are there to be met. After all, isn’t that what Katie’s about to do?

[For further information about why every single donation is invaluable, please look at the Guest Blog by Lisa Nash and the Blue Planet Run Foundation website. Please pass this to as many people as you can. It's amazing what can be achieved when we all get involved!]

Today was one of the few days where I relished in my decision to wear clothes. Let me take a step back…

First: no, I’m not an exhibitionist, but salt has a way of making any fabric rough. With rowing and moving my entire body all day, chafing can be prevented by not wearing anything. So, I was rowing along and over my shoulder … a boat.

Not a sail-boat or a freighter; I’m not really sure what kind of boat it was, but as long as it’s not a big ship I’m generally safe. As it came nearer, I was struggling to decide whether to grab a gift or a weapon, so I stuck with the camera instead. The initial excitement was replaced slightly by fear when I spotted 10 tanned men hanging over the side of the boat.

After a greeting, I realised there was a language barrier between us, but I could understand “Venezuela” and they “Guyana”. One man asked “Problem?” and I shook my head. A few minutes of awkward stares followed as we realised that was all we could do, so I kept rowing. After 30 or 40 yards, I noticed a couple of dolphins swam by, either curious about our encounter or my own personal oceanic bodyguards.

A few hours passed, and there it was again: the same boat. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head, thinking they were back after thoroughly devising a plan of attack. You never know!

Caught off-guard the first time, I scrambled for any tools, flares and the EPIRB. As they came near I realised it was a different boat, yet still a fishing boat from Venezuela. We had the same “Guyana … Venezuela” exchange and I only understood the repeated “loca, loca, loca”.

Although I hadn’t seen humans in over two months, they seemed much more interested in me than I was in them. One man was either having a heart attack or trying to flirt with me by pounding on his heart.

They think I’m the crazy one?!

[Katie is having difficulty with the connection between her laptop and satellite phone, so I've had to transcribe this from a voicemail message. That also explains the photo being an old one. I'm a little concerned she might kill me when she sees which one I've used. Ah well, I'm feeling brave!]

I first became aware of Katie and her adventure through a newspaper article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer in February 2008. She was still in college and in the early stages of dreaming and planning the adventure that has now become a reality. As someone who has spent a professional lifetime helping high-level athletes mentally prepare for challenging performance situations, I thought that I might have something to offer Katie. I emailed her immediately and volunteered my services. Much to my delight, Katie responded quickly and accepted my offer. She was still in college and planning to graduate in June. We agreed to meet and start working together upon graduation and her return to Ohio. And so I began working with Katie in June of 2008 and met with her regularly right up to her departure for Dakar in December 2009.

One of the big challenges was how to mentally prepare for such a colossal event, 2-3 months at sea, 2500 miles, and an infinite number of internal and external challenges.

Question: How do you eat an elephant?

Answer: Same as you eat a hamburger or anything else . . . . one bite at a time.

Thus Katie and I, after a period of time, divided her colossal adventure into a sequence of six major phases:

• leaving Ohio, getting Katie and “Liv” to Dakar, ending with departure from Dakar
• first few days out at sea, adjusting to sea environment
• middle voyage, the longest phase
• landing in South America
• returning home to Ohio
• adjusting to post-adventure life

For each phase we discussed the challenges as well as Katie’s resources to meet the challenges. We also talked about what was most likely to happen as well as what could go wrong and how to deal with it.

Katie also volunteered to do some psychological research while on her voyage. Every few days she is completing a short questionnaire regarding her thoughts and needs at that particular time. When the adventure is over, she and I will analyze the data and plan to make the findings available to others.

It has been a pleasure working with and getting to know Katie. She’s an outstanding person who provides inspiration to many others. Shortly after I began working with her, I came across a brief quote that explained my motivation in working with her and perhaps your interest in the venture as well:

“It is those with the boldest dreams who awaken the best in all of us.”

Row, Katie, row!

Jack J. Lesyk, Ph.D., CC-AASP
Director, Ohio Center for sport Psychology
Beachwood, OH

I set off from Dakar on January 3 to complete a solo, unsupported, mainland-to-mainland row across the Atlantic Ocean. That’s still what I intend to do and I’m going to do whatever I can to achieve it. Even if that means rowing an extra 400 miles!

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve started to row a little further north over the last few days. The reason behind this is that I am longer aiming for Cayenne, French Guiana; I’m going to Georgetown in Guyana.

Rowing into Cayenne is very difficult unless the weather is very calm. Because of the current coming up the South American coast, the waves coming from the north and the wind coming from the east, the sea becomes very messy unless there is almost no wind. At the moment, the wind is about 20kt – that doesn’t count as “no wind”! I’ve been told that, with the weather and the sea like it is now, I’d almost certainly need a tow for the last few miles into port to avoid certain death. Well … I want to row all the way and, having been out here for over 2 months, what’s another 2 weeks between friends?

Although the route to Cayenne is shorter and will end my journey sooner, by diverting my route to the north and continuing a track to Georgetown, the seas should be less aggressive and, weather permitting, my hope is that it will allow me to conclude my journey as I have conducted it: solo!

[This has been written by Sam, but after being told what to say by Katie over the phone!]

Behind door number one is … Holsatia Express. Door number two … Omega Emmanuel. And number three … Jose Breeze. I have officially entered tanker territory! With larger waves around 7 to 10ft, it makes for a slightly unnerving experience. My boat can easy tuck away so that I am barely visible. Even with the technology on board for communicating and viewing other boats (AIS/VHF/GPS), it still ranks high on the “Why ocean rowing is frightening” list. I would have a greater survival rate wrestling a shark than being in front of a freighter.

I think I’ll be sleeping with one eye open until I reach land!

I may or may not have named a few of the dorados that have been following under my boat — Ed, Edd, and Eddie. Today was not a good day for Edd.

As I started to dig around in the hatches for my next meal, I noticed a hungry visitor or two: dolphins. Not as playful as some of the other dolphins I have seen at sea, these were certainly interested in Ed, Edd, and Eddie. So the dolphins circled around my boat and one dolphin emerged minutes later with a dorado in its mouth. I certainly wasn’t going to interject their mission. They were quite possibly the largest dolphins I have seen, longer than my boat and I wouldn’t be surprised if they weighed as much too, especially the way one seemed to inhale a twenty pound fish.

Ten minutes later after they swam off, about seven more dolphins came for dessert. Some swam so close to my boat that I could have easily touched them. Ten minutes more and they were gone and the dorados back doing their belly-flop style splashes. Perhaps it was Ed and Eddie doing a little victory dance (or splash) for out swimming those dolphins.

RIP Edd.