There’s been a lot of talk in the last few days about how Jessica Watson overcame the knockers, particularly internet-dwelling knockers, when she sailed three hours late into Sydney Harbour on Saturday.

Well, I have to admit I was one of those lazy, desk-bound cynics who laughed (once we found out she was OK), when she ran into that tanker last year about four hours into her rehearsal run down the East Coast.
I was also pretty taken aback at the time that her parents thought it was hunky dory to send her off around the world knowing there was chance she wouldn’t come back. But amid the staged-managed hysteria on the Opera House forecourt on Saturday Jessica looked like the calm amid the storm.
Despite the best efforts of the Prime Minister, the NSW Premier, Sandra Sully and a hoard of strangers, Jessica appeared to remain totally unfazed.
This is why I’ve reassessed my view her trip was a unjustifiably-dangerous folly. (Not so Brendan Shanahan, who still thinks we should all stay home).
Of course it’s easy to jump on board a winning band-wagon, but my backflip is less about the fact she made it, and more about the fact it looked on Saturday like she didn’t give a toss what anyone else thought.
If she doesn’t care what we think, why should we care so much what she chooses to do?
Spending more than 200 days at sea on your own is generally going to give someone an aura of stoicism, but it’s still an impressive thing to witness when you get the chance to see it. And it’s a rare commodity in 2010.
As Jessica herself pointed out on the weekend, we seriously underestimate the abilities and strength of 16-year-olds.
We never used to. As I heard Ian Kiernan remind a television interviewer the other day, there were 15-year-olds at the front in WWI.
One of my all time favourite books is the ripping yarn of the First Fleet as told by David Hill in his book 1788.
The only advantage that mob had over Jessica, if you can call it an advantage, was that they were not alone and there were people her age or younger who survived that hellish trip.
Another of my favourites is A Fortunate Life by Bert Facey. Bert was 14 when he survived a week in the WA Outback chewing on a piece of kangaroo skin. The amazing thing about that story was it wasn’t the first great challenge he’d faced. He’d been overcoming amazing odds since he a little boy and didn’t think any of it was extraordinary.
I’m not trying to say Jessica’s effort wasn’t incredible. But as she corrected Kevin Rudd, she’s not a hero, she’s just a 16-year-old girl whose parents didn’t wrap up in cotton wool.
It’s funny that scares so many people.
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