Shipwrecks + Spritzers

Maurice and Maralyn + A Super-tart Limeade

Not quite sure how it’s already midway through August, but okay! This week: Narrative non-fiction about a shipwreck (!!). And a tart-ass summer limeade. 

Read

Maurice and Maralyn: A Whale, a Shipwreck, a Love Story by Sophie Elmhirst, pub. 2024
Buy: Blackwells (It’s not available in the States yet! Worth it to buy here, though.)

I wanted something light and airy after reading a few books that weighed me down emotionally, and plucked Maurice and Maralyn off my shelf to whisk me away to…the vast expanse of the Pacific, where a British couple is stranded on a 4’x3’ raft after their boat capsizes and sinks from being struck by a whale. Not exactly a rom com. But wow – what a story! I was immediately immersed, awestruck and couldn’t put this book down. Afterwards, I scrambled to read everything about the real-life couple, a sign of a truly good book. One note before I delve in: I really wish the publisher had moved Elmhirst’s Author’s Note to the beginning. I went in cold, not fully understanding that this was a true story, and Googled after a few pages to check, thereby spoiling a bit of the book. I recommend you read the note first!

I believe this is my first foray into narrative nonfiction, and it took a minute to get used to. Once I stopped overthinking, I settled into Elmhirst’s spare, moving prose, swept into a tale that is quite literally unbelievable until you read it firsthand. In 1966, Maralyn and Maurice Bailey (I’m moving Maralyn’s name to the top because she’s the true hero of this story), a young couple living in England, decide to sail to New Zealand via the Galapagos Islands. This isn’t a decision they make lightly: They spend five years and their life savings building a ship, outfitting it to the gills and studying profusely. Maurice commits the stars to memory – a navigational tool, as the couple refuses to have anything electronic on board (including radio signals – zero connection to the outside world); Maralyn stocks and stores the ship with cans of food for the journey, painstakingly outlining the rations in a journal that she’ll proceed to keep for the entirety of their voyage. 

They set sail in June 1972 and spend the next eight months afloat, getting their sea legs: Days are spent working on the ship (there is always something to fix or fine-tune), reading and writing in diaries, studying the weather patterns. They dock at various European and Caribbean destinations, befriending fellow sailors following similar esoteric pursuits. Maralyn is younger and far more social; Maurice, who strikes me as likely on the spectrum, prefers his own company (and Maralyn’s). They spend nights taking turns at sleep, one always on watch, following strict seafaring rules, never deviating, while the other rests. On March 4, 1973, Maralyn is about to wake Maurice up when they hear – and feel – a crack, and their possessions go flying. Disoriented, they eventually realize the ship has been struck by a giant whale: a gargantuan hole is thrashed through their beloved home. Unable to plug it, the couple abandons ship and watches it sink from their liferaft – so tiny neither of them can lie down. 

What follows is a harrowing, incredibly inspiring account of the intrepidness, bravery and intelligence this couple possesses. Let’s step back a minute: Can you imagine being stranded in the Pacific Ocean, somewhere south of the Galapagos Islands? In a fucking raft? With almost no food, potable water or clothes? With no connection to the outside world? In the 1960s?! Maralyn and Maurice immediately lock into gear in order to survive: They catch fish using safety pins, pull live sharks from the water for their fatty livers, use sea turtles as makeshift engines. Maralyn plans and catches their meals, recording details in her diary; Maurice attempts to steer them toward the Galapagos. All the while Maralyn thrives on the blind hope that they will eventually be rescued; Maurice is less idealistic, privately planning their joint suicides if it comes to that. Oh, and I failed to mention: Maralyn can’t swim. 

There is so much I want to tell you about this book but the beauty and specialness lie in the details so I’m going to stop here. Suffice it to say Maurice and Maralyn is gripping as hell and also deeply sad. It’s about the realities of marriage, the brutalities of survival, the drawbacks of celebrity, the loneliness of loss. Also, it has one of the softest covers ever, and if you’re a texture person…you’re in for a treat. 

Eat (Drink)

Drinking limeade was one of the signifiers of my childhood summers. Picture this: A frozen Minute Maid cylinder that you popped from its tube, shaking it with water until it magically became a sweet-tart summer treat. Feeling nostalgic, I recently looked it up and you guys...the news is not good. 23 grams of high-fructose corn syrup per serving…and there are eight servings per cylinder. I spent the summer nights of my youth outside til all hours playing kickball and basketball, thinking I was an amazing athlete; turns out I was merely high. During the most recent bout of 95+-degree heat in LA, I blended up a more adult version of the drink. A warning (I should make a T-shirt at this point regarding my aversion to overt sweetness): This is extremely tart, which I love, but isn’t for the faint of heart, so definitely add more honey if you want it sweeter. 

The Tartest Summer Limeade
Makes roughly 1 liter

8 limes, skin removed
⅓ - ½ cup runny honey
1 liter filtered water
4 sprigs basil, both stalks and leaves
Maldon, to serve

Blend everything in a high-powered blender until no bits remain. Strain through a sieve and refrigerate. Serve over ice with a basil leaf, lime wedge and sprinkle of Maldon, if you fancy!