My ship is so small [Anglais] [Relié]

It may seem odd to review a book long out of print, but this one is worth searching for. I found a copy at my local library. A well-written story of the first solo crossing of the Atlantic by a woman sailor,in 1953, "My Ship Is so Small" provides lessons for the modern sailor. The recent announcement that the Northwest School of Wooden Boat Building in Port Townsend is restoring her boat, the 23 ft "Felicity Ann," makes it timely.

Davison's story has been touted as a story of courage, but it's much more: it's a story of personal growth and a reminder of how much easier today's technology has made long-distance sailing.

Towards the end of the book, Davison said, "It wasn't courage that sent me scurrying across the ocean. It was a little curiosity and a lot of desperation that went into the making of that particular dream." Three years earlier, Davison and her husband had set off in their 70 ft restored fishing schooner in an illegal attempt to escape their creditors. Unprepared and overwhelmed by the size of their boat, they were shipwrecked on the rocks of Portland Bill. Even as she climbed the cliff from the wreck, she knew she had to go to sea again. She believed that if fear could be faced, tackled, overcome, she would find the key to living.

Her Atlantic crossing provided plenty of fear to face -- and obstacles to overcome. Without a self-steerer (this was before the days of wind vanes), she was forced to heave-to when she wanted to eat or sleep, cutting her sailing time almost in half. Calms, gales, high seas and the relentless growth of barnacles slowed her down. She never adjusted to the boat's motion and the trip took a physical toll on her; towards the end she became so exhausted she wondered how she could carry on.

When Davison started out on her crossing, she knew little about how to sail or navigate and had to learn along the way. At times in reading this, I found myself horrified at how ill-prepared she was. But think of the many sailors today who start off on an ocean crossing without first taking time to know their boat. The difference was she didn't have today's equipment -- and she was alone.

At times lyrical in her descriptions of sunsets and dolphins and at other times relentless in her portrayal of the difficulties that beset her, her log of the final crossing from Las Palmas to Dominica kept me turning pages. Did she find that key to living? She felt she did. I won't give her secret away; it's worth reading yourself to find out.