
From Booklist
Nicolson and a friend, George Fairhurst, sailed up the west coasts of Ireland and Scotland in 2003. The journey, in the 42-foot ketch Auk, took them to the Hebrides, Orkneys, and Faeroes. They were joined by a photographer, an archaeologist, and a film crew. Nicolson, the author of God's Secretaries (2003) and Perch Hill (2000), observes that "the Atlantic-besieged cliffs of the St. Kildan islands, smashed and storm-swept up to 200 feet above the surface of the sea, provide as enormous and powerful a meeting of rock and ocean as you ever find in Britain." Along the way, they saw puffins, gannets, shearwaters, seals, crabs, and a spectacular underwater cave. The book is filled with descriptive passages of the sea, cliffs, and the shoreline. There are passages revealing the anxiety and tedium that sometimes occurred, but Nicolson's love for the sea and his fervor for travel and adventure is evident from the first page to the last. George Cohen
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"A genuinely intriguing, thoughtful work."
Kirkus Reviews
"An odyssey of island hopping and psychic exploration."
Bernard Cornwell
"A superb book, as wise as it is beautiful."
Nathaniel Philbrick, author of In the Heart of the Sea, winner of the National Book Award
"A dazzling triumph--a profound and magical account of a voyage along the wild edges of the British coast."
Book Description
From Land's End to Cape Clear, at the southwestern tip of Ireland, past Roaringwater Bay and Cod's Head, on past Inishvickillane and Inishtooskert, up through the Hebrides, to Orkney and on to the Faeroes, stretches the richest and wildest coastline in Europe, an Atlantic-battered world.
Wanting to experience the feeling that only the ocean can give you, of being "a single hair on the world's skin," Adam Nicolson set off to sail this coast in the Auk, a 42-foot wooden ketch, heading off on a 1,500-mile voyage through what he hoped would be a sequence of revelatory landscapes. He was not disappointed.
Seamanship is more than a travel journal. What Nicolson has written describes an inner journey as much as an outer one. He writes of his own yearning for wild and open spaces, but his year is strung between the competing claims of leaving and belonging, of thinking that no life could be more exhilarating than battling a big Atlantic gale and of the desire for harbor and home, for the comforts of stillness.
Disasters and revelations greet him at every turn; sacred landscapes and modern visionaries; encounters with the animals living on the wild edge of the Atlantic; a moment at which the prospect of death comes strolling on board the Auk and others in which the strains of this ocean-edge existence threaten his friendship with George Fairhurst, who was sailing with him. Above all, it is about the gaps that open up between those who go and those who stay at home.
Seamanship, in the end, is not about the sea; it's about being alive.