The Solitude of the Open Sea

by Gregory Newell Smith

A collection of 17 narrative essays that range from the light and humorous to the sobering and reflective even including a harrowing brush with death. This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1892399229
• ISBN13: 9781892399229
• Release Date: January 2005
• Publisher: Seaworthy Publications Inc.
• Length: 259 Pages
• Weight: 0.80 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.6" x 6.1" x 9.1"

Customer Reviews

a different kind of sailing book

Most sailing books are the I got here using this sail with the wind from the south, etc. variety. This is quite different. It is a single, male in self imposed exile on a sailboat. Interacting with the local cultures to some degree, but never a part of it, and thus an observer. A sharp, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, sometimes sad observer. Most are stories and observations at his various longer stops along the way. True to what any of us might experience going solo, with assorted crew, around the world. A couple would have had a different experience, and perhaps fit in better, but would not notice what he does. Highly recommended.

Not Just a Sailing Book

Gregory Newell Smith's The Solitude of the Open Sea, a collection of narrative essays drawn from Smith's around-the- world sailing adventures, is much more than a sailing book: it is an insightful reflection on cross-cultural misunderstandings and the problems of cultural isolation; an album of portraits of fascinating people (his account of a young English woman, "Florence," was my favorite); and, most of all, the book is a philosophical examination of solitude and how being alone on his journey shaped his experiences. The title essay, which tells of Smith's 53-day solo passage from Panama to Hawaii, explains how a full appreciation of solitude goes beyond merely being alone, away from other people. On the contrary, it is through solitude that Smith is able to experience communion with nature and all of its power, a sublimity that, for Smith, is inspired by the breadth and majesty of the open sea. The experience of the sublime is a distinctive aesthetic that overwhelms the observer in a way that ordinary perception cannot. The sense of what Smith calls "wonder and awe" is difficult to apprehend outside of nature, though it is perhaps approached in some Chinese and Western landscape paintings. As Smith writes, "It took the sea's total freedom and the solitude I found there to finally achieve the communion I'd sought for so many years. When I found that communion, . . . it was a communion with Nature, with the universe beheld each day, with the wind, the waves, the sky, and the creatures of the sea. . . . For a brief time I was at peace. There was nothing I truly desired, no other person I needed to make me feel whole. My world was complete." What Smith experienced on the open sea was nature mysticism, which differs from traditional mysticism in at least two ways. First, nature mystics are extroverted, by which I mean that all their senses, including the kinesthetic, are stimulated. By contrast, other mystics turn inward and deliberately shut down their senses. Second, traditional mystics, rather than merging with nature, experience a fusion with God or the universal soul (atman) of the Hindus. Both types of mysticism, however, do draw a person into the Eternal Now. Smith writes, "I can think of no more immediate experience than sailing by oneself. . . . we feel bored or lonely when we are no longer living in the present moment. We want a change of circumstances, to be somewhere else or doing something else. We separate ourselves from our immediate reality by positing an alternate. We react rather than respond." The mystics and the sea teach us the same lesson: "The key is acceptance: eventually the sea will get you to admit that one of the few things you can change in life is your attitude. A successful ocean passage is therefore nothing short of the union of the boat and its crew with the natural environment, and exemplifies the difference between reacting and responding." By the end of the book, however, Smith has lea

Good Book!

In the nineteen-nineties, approaching the age of forty, Gregory Newell Smith gave up his career as a Seattle corporate lawyer, sold most everything he owned, bought an ocean-going sailboat, and set out to see the world. After logging more than 45,000 blue water miles, and circling the globe aboard his Fast Passage 39, Atlantean, Smith returned to the Northwest to write a book about his travels. It's a dream many of us have had, and few have followed through on. "I wanted to write about what it was really like to be out there," Smith said when I spoke to him recently about his newly published book The Solitude of the Open Sea. "Extended travel is a life changing event, but it didn't make sense to tell readers everything I did in the three and half years I was underway." Smith's solution was to craft a collection of seventeen stories from his journeys, each of them drawing upon a particular experience in order to address the themes of his book, which he describes as "broadening our horizons beyond the known and commonplace, freeing ourselves from cultural self-centeredness, and achieving self-discovery through perseverance, hardship, and solitude." Smith begins with the title essay, an account of his fifty-three day solo passage from Panama to Hawaii. Though Smith rarely traveled alone-he used pick-up crew for nearly all of his ocean passages, and the Hawaii passage actually takes place near the end of his journey-it's a good place for the reader to start, because Smith's perspective throughout the book is very much that of the lone traveler confronting a "world of strange customs . . . and people who don't look like us or speak our language." Almost all of Smith's stories address his experiences ashore (only three of them are set exclusively at sea), and they do not appear in chronological order, which may frustrate those readers looking for the typical "went there and did this" account. For this reason, I would say The Solitude of the Open Sea is more a collection of travel narratives than sailing stories, though I imagine it will be the armchair sailors who will be initially drawn to the title. Smith is a careful observer, and his descriptions of the traveling life ring true. There are highs and lows, ranging from the idyllic joys of exploring the "jeweled anchorages" of Tonga's Vava'u Group, to the depressing realities of Madagascar's descent into poverty and environmental devastation. But Smith rarely gives way to the easy cynicism of some travel writers who call our attention to the fact that the South Seas are hardly the paradise many of us would like to believe. He points out that exploring the world by sailboat gives the cruiser a unique advantage-the boat is home, a refuge for those times when life on foreign shores becomes too much to face on a daily basis. It's Smith's voice that impressed me from the outset and kept me reading. I never forgot that the author was a real person, willin