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So the journalist’s mind kicked in – let’s investigate. Soon, without planning it, Thorpe found himself becoming more than just an observer, as a place on this incredible journey fell into his lap. Some discussion with his wife (you know, ‘I love you, I might never see you again, is that ok?’) later, and the – let’s say ‘unswarthy’ Englishman (look at the photos in the book) was off to sea with a rogue’s gallery of shipmates straight out of Captain Pugwash. The book takes us on the journey with them, in the race against time they created for themselves by building a boat out of reeds that will eventually sink. It’s a journey that involves the Chilean Navy, good and bad weather, esoteric Frenchmen, weird food, and the very nature of friendship itself.
This is not just a book about the technicalities of ancient sea-travel (though there’s enough of that to interest even the most hardy of land-locked readers), or the existential joys and angst of a dangerous and beautiful journey, but a tremendously rich sketch of what men are like when they get together. If you’ve ever wanted to take a risk, but feel seasick at the thought, then you may just love this book. Witty, self-deprecating, but alive with a thirst for the journey, Thorpe’s writing is among the most engaging prose I’ve ever encountered. He has the wit of Bill Bryson and the eye for detail that Paul Theroux must pride himself on, but the voice is all his own. For duck-lovers, misty-eyed seafarers, religiously sceptic mystics, child-like wanderers and anyone who’s ever gone travelling to ‘find themselves’, ‘Eight Men and a Duck’ is a joy from start to finish.
The absurdity of the situation becomes apparent when the author discovers that a week's casual dinghying off the coast of Scotland and the fact that he at one stage 'spent two terms rowing in a reserve college squad so inept that the boat was known as eeyore' makes him the most experienced sailor on this hazardous voyage. Thorpe, a journalist from the UK, joins the Viracocha ten days before its projected launch date and is immediately rewarded with the task of conjuring up the sails (difficult, as he barely knew how to darn a sock).
At first glance, it is hard to conceive exactly how this disparate bunch of amateur sailors expected to pull off a feat that even the great Heyerdahl didn't manage himself, without succumbing to such dangers as sharks, oil tankers and the worry of simply being left stranded in the ocean if one of the crew fell off the boat (turning circle: about 10 miles, apparently), not to mention the ill-will of a rival expeditioner. But the quality of the crew as human beings and their sheer single-mindedness to climb apparently insurmountable hurdles is what drives them on towards success. If you want to know what happens when a group of eight men is stranded in isolation for 6 weeks in a confined space 64 by 16 feet, or if, like me, you secretly want to know what real wilderness is like without actually going there yourself, then read this book.
This is an exhilarating read which will appeal even to those (like me) who do not normally read travel writing. The best book I have read this year.
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