Stuck in a corporate job rut and an unraveling marriage, Roz Savage realized that if she carried on as she was, she wasn't going to end up with the life she wanted. So she turned her back on an eleven-year career as a management consultant to reinvent herself as a woman of adventure. She invested her life's savings in an ocean rowboat and became the first solo woman ever to enter the Atlantic Rowing Race.
Flashing back to key moments from her life before rowing, she describes the bolt from the blue that first inspired her to row across oceans, and how this crazy idea evolved from a dream into a tendonitis-inducing reality. Savage discovers in the rough waters of the Atlantic the kind of happiness we all hope to find.
|Publisher:||Simon & Schuster|
|Product dimensions:||5.60(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.70(d)|
About the Author
A latecomer to the life of adventure, Roz Savage was previously a management consultant and investment banker, before realizing at the age of thirty-four that there might be more to life than a steady income and a house in the suburbs. In 2005, she was the only solo female competitor in the Atlantic Rowing Race, the first solo woman ever to compete in that race and the sixth woman to row an ocean solo. In 2010, Roz was selected as an "Adventurer of the Year" by National Geographic.
Read an Excerpt
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
day two of the Atlantic Rowing Race dawned clear and sunny. I was woken by a beam of sunlight shafting across my eyelids like a searchlight as the boat rocked on the waves. Eventually I had become too exhausted to worry any more and managed to get a couple of hours of sleep during my last rest shift. I took a physical inventory of my body. I was relieved to find that my seasickness had abated slightly, but I had woken up with a worrying ache in my ribs. When I'd been struggling with the watermaker the day before I'd leaned across my knee to reach something and had felt a sudden pain in the side of my ribcage, so I'd probably pulled a muscle. This was a cause for concern -- there would be no recovery time. I had to get back to the oars. But the brightness of the day helped to banish the demons that had haunted the night, and overall I was starting to feel more positive.
My appetite never disappears for long -- more's the pity. I hadn't eaten much the day before and I was hungry so I set about making a breakfast of tea and porridge. Although I had practiced the procedure a number of times on dry land, the prospect of using the camping stove apparatus on the open sea made me anxious. Highly flammable liquid fuel combined with an erratically tipping rowboat seemed a potential recipe for disaster.
I reached into my cabin, undid a couple of latches, and lifted out a section of the floor. Fixed to the underside of this panel was a nine-inch-high stainless-steel cylinder that would act as a windbreak. A camping stove was mounted to the board inside it. A flexible tube led from the camping stove to a pressurized fuel bottle, which was also fixed to the panel. To use the stove I inverted the whole assembly so that the panel formed a base with the cylinder on top, and secured the panel outside in the cockpit using a couple of swivel latches. Peering in through a viewing hole in the side of the metal cylinder, I pumped the plunger into the fuel bottle to create the necessary pressure, turned the valve to allow a teaspoonful of fuel to dribble into the top of the burner, and lit it with a barbecue lighter. Big yellow flames immediately erupted from the stove. This was exactly as it was supposed to work but the flickering flames leaped alarmingly from the top of the protective metal cylinder and I quickly pulled my long hair back out of the way to prevent it from catching fire. When the yellow flames subsided I turned the valve to change the flame from flickering yellow to high-pressure blue so I could start cooking.
I turned the valve too far and the flame went out, starved of fuel.
"Bugger." I swore out loud.
This was not supposed to happen, but even in practice on dry land it had done so with annoying regularity. Now I would have to wait for the apparatus to cool down before I could try again. If I tried it too soon, the residual heat would cause the fuel to evaporate before I had time to light it.
At the second attempt I got the stove fired up and put the kettle on to boil. In just a few minutes it was steaming away and I used an oven cloth to lift it and poured the boiling water into a wide-mouth thermos, over the instant porridge I had already put in there. I gave the mixture a good stir and then put the lid on to allow the porridge to "cook." It was supposed to be cooked over heat while stirring, but a sticky porridge pan was too much trouble to wash up, and I'd found through experimentation that the porridge would absorb the water quite adequately if I left it to sit in the thermos for a while. I put the remainder of the hot water into a larger thermos to be used later for hot drinks and to rehydrate my dinner. After waiting ten minutes I opened up the thermos of porridge and added dried fruit and ground cinnamon and ginger, stirring them into the gooey porridge mixture.
"Mmmm. Yummy." I sat on the deck by the hatch to the aft sleeping cabin, my feet in the footwell, and spooned the hot food into my mouth, relishing the comforting sensation as it warmed my core and restored my blood sugar levels. I immediately started to feel better. I congratulated myself on managing to prepare breakfast without setting fire to either the boat or myself, and decided that maybe the ocean wasn't such a bad place after all. Maybe I could even begin to feel at home here. I needed to start focusing on the positive aspects of my experience, rather than the negative. This one small victory helped restore my sense of self-belief, which had taken such a knocking the night before. As I ate I looked out across the waves, sparkling in the morning sunlight. I wondered where the other crews were, and how they had fared during their first night at sea.
I looked over at the Argos locator beacon, blinking its red light in the corner of the cockpit behind my rowing position. It was sending a message from my boat that would bounce off a network of satellites orbiting the earth to a central control center in France. Each of the boats in the race had been equipped with one of these, so the race organizers and anybody checking the race website would be able to see the latitude and longitude of every crew. I knew that Mum would be anxiously watching the little purple blob that represented Sedna and me, as we edged our way slowly across the online map of the Atlantic. It made me feel irrationally safer to know that she was watching over me. I made believe that the red blinking light of the Argos was beaming a slender umbilical cord through the ether, from me to my mother, and found the thought reassuring.
I scraped the last of the porridge out of the thermos, savoring every last dollop, washed up using a little hot water from the large thermos, and returned the camping stove to its stowed position inside the cabin. I was just about to start my day's rowing when I spotted a white sail wending its way across the waves toward me. As the sail came closer I could see it was attached to a vessel -- the support yacht Aurora.
I had not seen the yacht, nor indeed any of the rowboats, since they had disappeared into the distance while I was struggling with the watermaker. During my preparations for the row some people had seemed disappointed to hear that I would be a competitor in a race, rather than going totally solo. They seemed to imagine that I would be in a little flotilla of boats rowing together across the Atlantic, chatting and laughing and comparing notes at the end of each day. There was also a misconception that the support yachts would be constantly on hand to provide tea, sympathy, and homecooked food. The truth was that I would be very unlikely to see any of the other competitors, and the support yachts would be there for me only if I chose to contact them, and even then they could be up to a week away. But I did not plan to make contact, for I was afraid that if I started an ongoing dialogue with them I would fail in one of the key tasks I had set myself: to assert my independence and self-sufficiency, and to find out what I could do when cast entirely on my own means.
I had spent most of my life relying on other people for support -- my parents, teachers, boyfriends, and my husband -- and now I wanted to find out if I was strong enough and resourceful enough to survive alone. I was tired of having to rely on other people, for a few disappointments had taught me that I could truly rely on nobody but myself. Within the last couple of years I had some grand schemes that had depended on other people to provide something -- the financing for a coffee shop, a boat for a trip around the world, the premises for a baking business -- and in every case the plans had fallen apart. It had been nobody's fault, but circumstances change, as do people's priorities, and each of these promises of support had failed to materialize. More recently, the drive to raise corporate sponsorship for my row had been one letdown after another -- promises implied, only to be told, "Sorry, we've had budget cuts," or "There's been a change of strategy." As for men, in no other area of my life was it more true that hope had given way to disappointment. In my headlong, headstrong way I had tended to throw myself wholeheartedly into relationships, with giddy expectations unfounded in reality, only to suffer disillusionment and pain when the honeymoon period ended and the violins of romance trailed off into discord and then embarrassed silence.
My lifelong tendency to rely on others meant that my repertoire of practical skills was sadly limited, and although I suspected that I was capable of more than I imagined, in ordinary life the temptation to take the easy option and ask for help was too much for me to resist. The only way that I could resist the temptation was to remove myself from it -- so one of the reasons that rowing the Atlantic had appealed was that it would be the perfect way to effectively cut myself off from any hope of assistance. I would be forced to fend for myself. A blunt-speaking Australian oar maker had summed it up when we had been talking at Henley Regatta the summer before. "You women," he'd said. "I know what you're like. You flutter your eyelashes and you get someone else to do the dirty work for you. You're going to have to stop fluttering the eyelashes and start doing things for yourself if you're going to survive out there on the ocean."
So this was my goal: if I could get myself from the Canaries to Antigua, alone and unsupported, I would have passed my selfimposed test of self-sufficiency. This meant that I felt very protective about my solitude, and did not welcome intrusions. The less contact I had with the outside world, the better -- I did not want to be tempted into relying on anyone else for support. For better or worse, right or wrong, this was my adventure and I would do it my way.
The sleek white craft pulled alongside and the skipper, Lin arker, called me on the VHF radio to ask how I was doing. The truth was that after my hearty breakfast I was once again feeling nauseous from the motion of the boat, and the discomfort in my ribs was bothering me, but I assured Lin I was doing just fine. I didn't want them fussing over me.
I asked for an update on the other competitors. I wanted to know how my progress compared with theirs. "You're not coming last, but most of the crews are ahead of you," Lin told me. "You're doing just fine, especially as you're the only solo woman."
But I wanted to do better than "just fine." I wanted to be a contender.
"You need to row more hours in the day," declared Mr. Competitive, smugly. "I know," I shot back, through gritted teeth. "But my ribs hurt and I feel seasick, so it will just have to wait until I feel better. There are still plenty of miles ahead for me to catch up with the rest, so there's no need to panic." Mr. Competitive gave me a superior, you-know-I'm-right kind of a look.
After five or so minutes of chatting with Lin on the VHF radio, I was getting impatient to get on with rowing, so I signed off. The Aurora turned to allow the wind to fill her sails and took off with enviable speed to visit the other crews ahead of me.
I returned to my rowing seat and took up the oars once more. Slide, dip, draw, finish. Slide, dip, draw, finish. Stroke after stroke after stroke. Stop for a drink of water every fifteen minutes. Stop for a five-minute snack break every hour. Stop for a longer rest every three hours.
I had worked hard to train my muscles for this, but despite the rigorous training program of the last fourteen months my body already seemed to be cracking under the pressure. As well as the persistent pain in my ribs, I was developing an ominous grinding pain in my shoulders that I knew from my Oxford rowing days indicated the onset of tendinitis, an inflammation of the tendons that should be treated with rest and the regular application of ice. Neither rest nor ice were options right now. I winced with every stroke, as the pain between my shoulder blades increased as the day wore on.
I felt indignant. This was not fair! I had, as far as I knew, trained longer and harder than any other ocean rower ever had. I had built up a solid base of fitness by training for between one and four hours a day -- lifting weights, running, and training on a rowing machine -- until my schedule eventually peaked with weekly sixteen-hour rowing sessions, split into four shifts of four hours. I would start at noon on a Sunday and finish around dawn on Monday morning. These sessions had been tough. Physically, my lower back would be aching and my body protesting that it wanted sleep. Psychologically, I fought boredom and mental fatigue, training my mind to entertain itself while my body rowed on through the night. I passed the time listening to music and visualizing what life would be like on the ocean. At last the sixteen hours of rowing would draw to an end and I would collapse gratefully off the rowing machine, drained and sweating, but proud of my perseverance and growing in confidence that I could rise to the physical challenge of rowing an ocean.
But now I was starting to wonder if all those hours spent in training had been a waste of time. The whole point had been to prepare my body for this kind of punishing rowing schedule, but the movement on the rowing machine had been comfortable, regular, forward and backward, which was ideal for rowers intending to compete on smooth waters but was poor preparation for the ocean. Out here the water was choppy, the boat tipped from side to side, and my oars rarely made a solid connection with the water -- or at least not simultaneously. It seemed that my eight years of rowing experience would be of little use to me now. On the flat, calm rivers where I had spent most of my rowing career, I had been able to compensate for my lack of size by rowing with a sharp, precise technique that moved the boat efficiently through the water. In response to the rough water and large, heavy boat, I was now developing an odd, syncopated rowing rhythm. My rowing coaches would not have been proud. Ideally I would have done more of my training in the boat, rather than on the rowing machine, but the boat had not been ready in time. "If only, if only," I thought regretfully.
As the second day of the Atlantic Rowing Race passed slowly, the seas rose, pounding the oars and sending shock waves traveling up the shaft to my shoulders, until they felt as if I was taking a beating in the boxing ring rather than rowing an ocean. I also found that I was unable to row at full slide as I had done on the rowing machine. In a rowboat the shoes are fixed to a plate so that the rower's feet stay in one place while the rowing seat slides back and forth. This allows the rower to exploit the power of the large quad muscles in their legs as well as the smaller muscles of their upper body. But I was finding that the rougher the water, the less of the slide I could use, so most of the power of the stroke was coming from my relatively weak arms and shoulders rather than my stronger, fitter thigh muscles.
I had believed that with my fitness, determination, and sleek new carbon fiber boat, I might succeed in my objective of not coming in last -- but my strategy hinged on spending sixteen hours per day at the oars. This goal was undoubtedly ambitious. Most of the competing crews were pairs, and would row in alternating shifts of two hours on, two hours off, making a total of twelve hours apiece in any twenty-four-hour period. I was intending to row a third as much again -- on my own.
As I thought about the pairs, just for the briefest of moments I wished I had a crewmate sharing this experience. I wanted to ask, "Am I doing this right? Is it really meant to be this hard?" Having a partner would have had another advantage, too -- as a solo rower, while I was sleeping my boat would just drift with the wind and the current, whereas the crews of two or more would always have someone awake and rowing, keeping the boat moving faster and in the right direction. But almost as quickly as those thoughts came, I banished them from my mind. I had good reasons to be doing this alone, and I had to accept that with the advantages would also come some disadvantages.
But no sooner had I banished the negativity from my mind than it surged back again. Could I really do this? In the bustle of preparation there had been no time to stop and ponder this question. All my energy had been focused on getting to the start line, which many people had told me was the hardest part. It had undeniably been challenging, but it had been mostly within my comfort zone. The skills involved were fund raising, training, and project management -- all of which I had done before. The actual act of rowing an ocean, on the other hand, was totally new to me. The fact that I had eight years of rowing experience behind me had given me the happy delusion that I was qualified to take on this challenge, but rowing on the River Thames and rowing on the ocean were proving to be as different as climbing the stairs and climbing Mount Everest.
The enormity of the task ahead was starting to dawn on me, and it was not a comfortable feeling. Self-doubt overwhelmed me. What on earth had possessed me to take on this challenge? I must have been crazy. And I had nobody but myself to blame.
Copyright © 2009 by The Voyage LLC
Table of Contents
1 The Unlikely Adventurer 1
2 Passing the Point of No Return 9
3 Beginnings 23
4 What Was I Thinking? 33
5 Baring My Soul-and More 43
6 One Stroke at a Time 59
7 One Oar Down 79
8 Clouds of Anxiety 97
9 Life Is Easier in the Storms 109
10 Happy Birthday to Me 127
11 All I Want for Christmas 133
12 Rogue Wave Rumble 141
13 Going Garbo 155
14 Atlantic Hardcore 161
15 Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea 169
16 Two Hundred Valentines 173
17 Incommunicado 181
18 Ships Passing in the Night 195
19 One Hundred Days of Solitude 199
20 So Near and Yet So Far 207
21 The Home Strait 217
22 An Altered Reality 225
Reading Group Guide
This reading group guide for Rowing the Atlantic includes an introduction, discussion questions, ideas for enhancing your book club, and a Q&A with author Roz Savage. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.
In Rowing the Atlantic, Roz Savage gives us an intimate look at life alone on the open ocean in a tiny rowboat. We follow this nervous first-time adventurer as her watermaker malfunctions, when she dreams of feasts instead of another freeze-dried meal, when her gloves wear through, when her headlamp is the only light on a pitch black night ocean and when her communications system fails. She flashes back to key moments from her old life to explain what led to her transformation from office worker to ocean rower. The reader is there as, stroke by stroke, she discovers there is much more to life than a fancy sports car and a power-suit job. and ultimately rows her way to the kind of happiness we all hope to find.
- The Atlantic Rowing Race is known as “The World’s Toughest Rowing Race” and many attempts to complete it have failed due to weather, personal injury and capsizes. Roz admits that the reward for the winner of the Atlantic Rowing Race is “a cheap medal and the knowledge that they have done something out of the ordinary” (p.2). Why was “out of the ordinary” enough for Roz to take on this venture? Did you believe Roz was incredibly bold or incredibly crazy? Did your opinion change by the end of the book?
- Talk about Roz’s upbringing and the impact that her parents had on her life. What was instilled in her that made her think rowing the Atlantic was a possibility? How did her father continue to be a source of inspiration, even after his passing? How did you feel when Roz’s mom revealed that if she ignored Roz’s notion to cross the Atlantic, “the whole horrible idea might go away” (p. 63)?
- What about Roz’s childhood visit to San Diego shifted her view about what she could become? What made her realize that “…I was not merely a creation of my genes, star sign, upbringing, or circumstances. I, and I alone, had responsibility for my life” (p. 28). Why do you think it takes her another two decades to make her life-changing decision?
- Discuss some of the “small victories” that Roz had while out on the Atlantic. How did these help her along the way? Why was it important not to get too excited and to nurture her “fragile” joy carefully?
- Do you agree with Roz when she states that she never really got to know herself (p.54)? Why or why not? How did the writing of the obituaries help “introduce” her to the person that she wanted to be? Do you think that her experience on the Atlantic helped her to get to know herself better?
- Roz states that in order to live the life she wanted to “I would have to make some enormous changes, and the prospect terrified me” (p. 57). Do you think she would have been better off playing it safe? Do you agree that sometimes in order to make big changes in our lives we must sacrifice many of the comforts we already have? Could Roz have made her changes and still kept her current life?
- Roz is consistently “visited” by four “friends”: Mr. Guilt, Mr. Self-Doubt, Mr. Self-Critical and Mr. Competitive. How do they manifest themselves? When do they seem to show up? How does Roz combat them?
- Were you surprised to learn that Roz had been cheating on Richard with Tom? How, if at all, did this change your impression of her? What did she believe that Tom was to her?
- After Roz completes her epic 103 day journey, she admits to the reader that she still finds herself “fighting pointlessly against things that cannot be changed” (p.237). Did this surprise you after all that she had been through? How much do you think Roz changed on her journey? Do you think that rowing the Atlantic helped her grow? Why or why not?
- What were some of the things that Roz learned while out on the ocean? How does she still struggle? Do you think that she will ever become that person in her fantasy obituary?
- Your ship, the Sedna Solo, has a very interesting name. What is its origin? Where is the Sedna Solo now?
Sedna is the name of the Inuit Eskimo and Alaskan goddess of the ocean who provides sustenance for both the body and soul. It is said that when Sedna lost the tips of her fingers in a tragic boating accident, the digits transformed into whales, seals and other sea-creatures alike. As a result, Sedna is intimately connected with the sea's inhabitants. The Eskimos believe that she can be called upon for plentiful supplies and can help with any ocean-related ventures, including interacting with whales and dolphins.
She is very appreciative of those who give time, money or efforts to protect the sea and those creatures who inhabit its waters.
Sedna has now been renamed the Brocade, for my title sponsors. I have completed 2 out of 3 stages of a solo row across the Pacific Ocean. In 2008 I rowed from San Francisco to Hawaii. This year I rowed from Hawaii to Kiribati, where my boat is now in storage awaiting next year’s third and final stage to Australia. If successful I will be the first solo woman ever to row the Pacific.
- You wrote that as a child, books were your escape and your refuge. What role do books play in your life now? How do you feel that your story may one day be an escape and inspiration for a child?
Books continue to be very influential in my life, and have helped form the way I perceive reality. In particular I have been influenced by The Celestine Prophecy, The Alchemist, the books of Deepak Chopra, The Perennial Philosophy, and Ishmael. I have also been listening to audiobooks during my Pacific voyage – approximately 140 books so far between San Francisco and Kiribati!
I hope that my book might help a child to believe that almost anything is possible, given enough determination and commitment, and that their life is very much what they choose to make it.
- You intersperse your story of the Atlantic crossing with the story of how you came to cross the Atlantic. Why did you decide to tell the story in this manner? Why not make it more linear?
By juxtaposing the past and the present, I hoped to emphasize the contrast between my old life and the new. I felt as if I was re-born when I decided to take the leap of faith into the life I believed I deserved, and even now I look back and marvel at the scale of the transformation. But I hope that the flashbacks are sufficiently sequential to explain how my transformation came about, so the reader has a guide to how to change their life – if they want to. Divorce and rowing oceans not compulsory, though!
- You started rowing in college as a way to control your weight and get in shape. You admit that it was your rowing background that gave you inspiration to row the Atlantic. What if you had not become a rower? Do you think you would have taken on such a grand venture? If so, what would it have been?
I was looking for any venture that accorded with my newfound values. It could have been almost anything that was challenging, character-building and environmentally low impact. I considered creating an organic coffee shop, renovating a tugboat to be a liveaboard “eco-boat”, or traveling across land by veggie-oil vehicle. But rowing oceans happened to check more boxes than any of the other options – with the added attractions of solitude and good old-fashioned adventure.
- You state that you had been used to a world “where effort and results went hand in hand. But here on the ocean, the rules were different” (p. 145) Did this reality discourage you at first? How did you learn to adapt to it? How has this affected how you perceive effort/results in your own life today?
Yes, that reality was very discouraging, and I really struggled to adapt to it. Ultimately the lesson I learned was acceptance. There was no point in fighting the way that things were. I had to trust that everything would turn out exactly as it was supposed to. I am not actually convinced that everything happens for a reason, but it certainly makes life easier if I tell myself that it is so, and forces me to look for the positive in every situation – both on and off the water.
- Towards the end of your voyage you discovered a “new” you that you liked. Were you able to bring the best of that person from the Atlantic back to land as you had hoped? Do you ever distinguish between “old” Roz and “new” Roz?
I believe that I have been successful in incorporating the best of the new Roz with the best of the old. I now get a marvelous feeling of integrity in myself, whereby I see that everything that has happened in my life – all the skills and experiences, even the ones that seemed bad at the time – have helped to form this person that I am now. It is as if everything was leading up to this point, equipping me with exactly what I needed to do what I now do.
- You skillfully chronicle the blood, sweat and tears it took to get you on the Atlantic and then get you off it. What advice would you have for someone who is thinking about taking on a similar venture?
Anything is achievable if you break it down into small enough steps. If you have a big dream but it seems almost impossibly daunting, make a list of everything that you would need to do to achieve it. What skills would you need? Who would you ask for advice? What money and resources will it require? Then look at the list and see if there is anything that still seems too daunting. If so, then you haven’t broken it down far enough. Take it to the next level of detail, and repeat until your whole list is do-able. And when the going gets tough, remind yourself that nothing great is ever easy, and the feeling of achievement when you reach your goal is directly proportional to the effort you’ve gone through to get there.
- You made the comment that you vowed never to become blasé about things you previously had taken for granted on dry land; yet you also comment that it would be mentally exhausting to be constantly grateful for all the minutiae of life. Where do you stand on this now, almost five years later? Are you still grateful for all the things you took for granted or has that subsided a bit?
I’ve done 2 more major ocean rows since the Atlantic, the last one finishing less than 3 weeks ago. So I have had regular refresher courses in not taking things for granted!
- After your satellite phone failed you confess you had a “guilty delight” about being disconnected from everything. Do you still long for that today? Are you able to disconnect while on dry land or do you need the sea to help you accomplish that?
I have become much better at disconnecting while on dry land. In fact, I’ve become much better generally at focusing my thoughts so that I can tune out unwanted distractions and mental clutter. One of my favorite rituals is to retreat to a coffee shop with my journal and for the hour or so that I’m there I’ll be totally focused on what I’m writing. No matter how busy I am, or what is going on, that time is sacred. There is nothing as good as a bit of coffee shop therapy to help me keep my sense of perspective.
- What would you say is your motto or maxim? Why?
“Whatever you do, put your whole heart into it.” My father used to say that. There is a purity and a power in complete commitment to a task that overcomes almost any obstacle.
- What is next for you? Is another book in the works?
I’m working on a book called “Pulling Together: An Ocean Rower’s Vision for a Greener Future”. Based on the lessons learned on the ocean, with particular references to my trans-Pacific row, it’s a very personal view on why and how we can address the challenges of climate change. It’s a positive and optimistic message that we are all empowered, and indeed obligated, to make a difference in the world.
Enhancing your book club
- The name of Roz’s boat is the Sedna Solo. If you had to embark on an ocean voyage, what would the name of your boat be and why? Share with your book club!
- Roz mentions that her favorite café in New York was the Café Mona Lisa on Bleecker Street. Share your favorite local café with your book club. See if you can hold one of the meetings there!
- You may not have to row the Atlantic to take on an ambitious task in your life. Share with your book club a story about an ambitious venture you took. Who knows, it might be novel material!
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Parts were very good, but other part were very boring.
A friend recommended this book to me. After I started reading it, it gave me a perspective on how decisions can impact your life. I would recommend this to anybody who seems to be in a stuck crossing of life.
This has to be one of the most inspirational books I've read in ages. Roz' story resonated with me and it was amazing to come along for the row!
It wasn't until I read the simple paragraph above at the end of chapter 21 describing the embrace shared between you and your wonderful mum at the end of the race that I could breathe normally again. Even though I knew the ending, my heart was in my throat for the duration of the incredible journey you took me on. Along the way I had many doubts that "we" would ever make it. I say "we" because your book has that rare capacity to put the reader right in the cramped boat with you, almost experiencing your despair, hopelessness, sense of danger, exultation, the discomfort: aching shoulders, blisters on hands, boil on your poor bum, even the sting of the salty spray of the of the wind on your face. You lay bare your heart (among other body parts) and your honesty comes through every sentence. Thank goodness you gave your readers the luxury of that lovely massage at the end. We needed that! Your former life on your commute and at the office: "flourescent-lit, gray blandness of it all depressed my spirit, but I wanted the money and prestige, so I pushed my doubt aside and got on with it. Everyone else seemed to find it quite normal, (me: lol) and I hoped eventually I would too." Luckily for us you never did find that life normal so you were able to take us on a grand adventure, that definitely would not have been as much fun if we had to stay in the office with you. It was amazing to watch you evolve from being so materialistic (how many people know this about themselves, much less admit it?) and then to express so beautifully your new philosophy of life of which I have no room here to comment on, other than to say you could write a whole separate book on just that, and I would proudly display it on my (read often) bookshelf alongside Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" and Tolle's "A New Earth." (Also any books by Patrick McDonnell creator of "Mutts" comic strip). Btw, when I finished reading "Rowing the Atlantic" late last night, I then read a bit of Teddy Kennedy's "True Compass". A wonderful book as well, but in the bit I read, he was sailing in his luxury yacht... just wasn't the same. Roz Savage is dedicated to wonderful causes: to bring awareness to Climate Change, plastics in our oceans, etc. Can one 5'4" beautiful English woman make a difference in how we treat our beautiful planet? Well, for me, as I sit writing this review at my favorite Starbucks armed with a journal (a la Roz), I made sure to order my coffee in a "for here" cup so it wouldn't end up in a landfill. I plan to tweet Oprah about Roz and encourage others to do so if you enjoy this book: it would not only make a fabulous selection for her book club, but with the Oprah sticker on the front of the book, just imagine how fast the Roz message might get spread to the far corners of our oceans and earth. It can't be fast enough!
This is the story of a young woman who realised that being ordinary just wasn't enough and set out to discover who she really was. She did this by entering the Atlantic Rowing Race in 2005; rowing a 23' boat 3,000 miles alone across the Atlantic Ocean. She had no experience and her expectations were based entirely on optimism and the determination to at last do something entirely on her own. Roz Savage switches smoothly between the story of her voyage and the events in her life that led to it, and the two lines intersect perfectly. She describes her thoughts and fears as she deals with a series of disasters, all overcome by ingenuity or sheer persistence or by ignoring them. She includes some very personal revelations and her self-deprecating style is quite moving. I had to pause every so often just to absorb what I had just read. Roz demonstrates by often painful examples that getting outside one's comfort-zone is extremely uncomfortable. She reveals her innermost thoughts and weaknesses, but leaves us to observe her strengths. It is very well written and both exciting and intimate, so I could almost hear Roz's voice narrating as I read. Unusually for me, I read the book straight through at one sitting. Rowing the Atlantic is entertaining and inspirational at many levels and I cannot recommend it too highly as a good read for anyone of any age or background. It's a keeper-a book to re-read every year or so and ideal as a gift for 'teens and adults alike. My wife and I have had the good fortune to meet Roz Savage and were very impressed by her, but until reading this book we had not realised just how special she is. Clearly by not seeking to rely on friends, Roz has made many of them.