Solo

To this day, Andrew McAuley remains something of a controversial figure to some in the kayaking community. Some would consider his risk-taking adventures as acts of foolhardiness and selfishness, especially in light of his young family that he left behind. Others would say that he lived the life that we wanted to live on his own terms, fully knowing and weighing the risks that his adventure-seeking lifestyle demanded.
And it’s this issue that we adventure sports participants wrestle with every time we take part in the sports we love so much, whether we feel at home in 10 metre waves, or scurry to shore at the first sign of a ripple in the water. Is it worth staying out when the weather looks dodgy, or the wind picks up, or the waves get gnarly? We want to challenge ourselves, to do something few have done, to have an “experience,” but what of the cost? Do we play it safe? Or do we, literally, get in over our heads? At the end of the day, no matter our skill level or desire for adventure, we all want to go home.
In many ways, this is the central dilemma in Vicki McAuley’s new book Solo, the tragic story of her husband’s ill-fated solo kayak crossing of the Tasman Sea in 2007. Andrew, whose draft text for his own now-uncompleted book about the crossing is quoted extensively, describes his wish to be the first to paddle across the 1600 km sea as a dangerous and selfish quest, yet he is driven to accomplish his dream, believing his life would remain unfulfilled should he never attempt it. He seems torn, understanding the anguish he is putting his family through by taking on this risky venture, and it seems at times that the right word from Vicki would halt the expedition planning and he would let his dream go, yet she can’t bring herself to show any weakness that she feels may undermine her husband’s confidence.
The book describes Andrew’s career in mountain-climbing until a near-fatal fall ended it, and his growing interest in extreme expedition kayaking, then moves up to his preparations for his Tasman crossing, his aborted first attempt, then the crossing itself, and its sad conclusion, and Vicki’s battle with grief and depression afterwards. And it leaves questions that will never be answered. Did Andrew truly appreciate the magnitude of the endeavour he was undertaking? Did he rush his preparations and planning fearing that another expedition might make the crossing first?
It’s a gripping story and told well, with Vicki’s heartbreak dripping off almost every page. He was an extraordinary individual, and she's written an extraordinary book.

Solo: Lost At Sea

Tonight, the CBC aired the documentary Solo: Lost at Sea about Andrew McAuley's attempt to kayak across the Tasman Sea from Tasmania to New Zealand.
I would suspect that even those of us who paddle on only the flattest of waters and only in the safest conditions have felt that feeling of wanting to see behind the next island or what's in the next cove, or to point the boat at the horizon and go and discover that place where the sea sweeps up into the sky, like we could paddle forever under a golden sun with a cool breeze on our backs under cerulean skies.
I don't think I'd kayak if I didn't occasionally feel that urge pulling at me. McAuley just followed it to the nth degree.
A tragic story. And recommended watching.

When It All Goes Very Very Wrong....

The National Geographic channel is running a documentary about Andrew McAuley's ill-fated attempt to kayak solo from Australia to New Zealand in January, 2007 called Solo: Lost at Sea. He was attmpting to paddle 1600 km across the Tasman Sea. 29 days after he set out, 80 km from completing his voyage, he broadcast a distress call. The next day, his empty kayak was found floating within sight of land. His body was never found.
The trailer for this documentary is one the most heart-wrenching pieces of film I've ever seen.