I admit it. I judged this book its cover. And its title. Honestly, who can resist a book named “Eight men and a Duck”? This is the story of a journey from Chile to Easter Island on a reed boat with the aforementioned crew on board. Actually they started out with two ducks but one of them went for a poorly timed swim. In the middle of the ocean. RIP Pedro.
One would think building a reed boat would be a fun, if foolish, endeavor but that would be wrong and simplistic. Anyone sailing a reed or raft-like boat comes up against the infamous Thor Heyerdahl, of Kon-tiki fame, and some very grumpy purists who have tried and failed to cross oceans in their own reed boats.
A sidenote on construction of reed boats. Reeds are cut and grouped into columns lashed together. These columns are grouped and lashed together, creating larger circumferences eventually comprising the hull of a ship. Spars are added and sails of canvas attached. The result is a viking sailing ship which absorbs water from the first day it’s launched and becomes a ticking time bomb slowly sinking a couple inches each day.
Controversy arises in the construction of Viracocha when it’s discovered that about 10 meters of lashing line is actually plastic. Sacre bleu! This is not a pure reed boat and, to those who care, this is not a legitimate test of oceanworthy reed voyages. International faxes fly and there is no shortage of press coverage.
On a more practical and hair-raising matter is the crew itself- well meaning, excited, novice sailors with no navigations skills. After a chance encounter on a bus with a young, philandering Frenchman, the author is invited to join the crew. And make the sails for the boat out of the enormous pile of canvas that is sitting in a corner of the boatyard. Other crew members are tasked with food, supplies and navigation when their only accomplished sailor and navigator packs it in and head home, frustrated by delays and the carefree (some say careless) nature of the voyage’s captain. The easy-going optimism of this voyage alternates between alarming and fun. Thorpe reveals himself as somewhat neurotic and uptight, not the best qualities for close quarters on an ocean voyage and halfway through this book I found myself wondering why they didn’t exile him to a dinghy off the stern of Viracocha. I’m not unsympathetic, ocean sailing is fraught with dangers seen and unseen, but why not make the best of it? In the end this book is like the journey itself, well meaning, humourous, foolhardy and slightly emphemeral leaving little imprint of the journey or its writing…
mytravelbug
