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344 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 1986
Often wet, cold or overheated, always starving thirsty or scared, with sores and ulcers plaguing him, and never-ending attacks by the bumping dorados, Callahan continues his daily routines amidst unbelievably harsh conditions for 76 long days.
While at times a bit too detailed and descriptive (for me) still a great true-life adventure story.
"It is always difficult to decide where a story begins and where it ends. However, some experiences—a romantic evening, a weekend retreat, or a voyage—have fairly distinct dividing lines. They are what I call "whole experiences." To a large degree, the first twenty-nine years of my life represent one whole experience that rests outside the scope of this book. But within those years are the seeds of this story. People often ask me how I got myself into such a fix in the first place. How did I know what to do? Was the boat I lost new or had it been tried before? Why was I sailing offshore in such a small boat? The answers to these questions are an integral part of the story, its foundation. The foundation was laid in 1964, when, at age twelve, I began sailing..."
"For me the crossing was more of an inner voyage and a pilgrimage, of sorts. It would also serve as a measuring stick for my competence as a seaman, a designer, and a craftsman. I figured that if I made it to England safely, I'd have accomplished every major goal I'd ever set for myself. From England I would continue south and west, measuring Solo's performance in a singlehanded transatlantic race called the Mini-Transat. That would carry me to Antigua. In the spring I would return to New England, thereby completing a circumnavigation of the North Atlantic. To qualify for the Mini-Transat, I had to sail six hundred miles alone in Solo, so I entered the Bermuda 1�2 Race and sailed from Newport to Bermuda. From there I would make the crossing to England with Chris."
“I am constantly surrounded by a display of natural wonders. The acrobatic dorados perform beneath ballets of fluffy white clouds. The clouds glide across the sky until they join at the horizon to form whirling, flaming sunsets that are slowly doused by nightfall. Then, as if the sun had suddenly crashed, thousands of glistening galaxies are flung out into deep black night. There is no bigger sky country than the sea. But I cannot enjoy the incredible beauty around me. It lies beyond my grasp, taunting me. Knowing it can be stolen from me at any time, by a Dorado or shark attack or by a deflating raft, I cannot relax and appreciate it. It is beauty surrounded by ugly fear. I write in my log that it is a view of heaven from a seat in hell.�I love survival stories, and have read many of them over the years. But Adrift is definitely one of my favorites. It is the story of someone who was tested physically, mentally, and emotionally and managed to turn that experience into something encouraging. Woven throughout his narrative is that strong spirit of survival that is the common thread in all survival stories. It is not just the will to survive but to take devastation and turn it into something that fuels your strength.
“We cannot grow without challenge. Challenges routinely produce crises that severely test us. However, crises also offer us the greatest opportunities. People going through tough times typically feel isolated, and unsure what to do. When I face a crisis, I try to keep in mind a few simple concepts: we cannot control our destinies, but we can help to shape them; we must try to make life hop a bit, but we must also accept that we can only do the best we can.�