• Paddle to the Arctic: The Incredible Story of a Kayak Quest Across the Roof of the World © 1995
• Douglas Gibson: McClelland & Stewart
• 313 pages

Don Starkell is the last person I’d take on any sort of wilderness trip. He’s stubborn, driven, and near-suicidal in his quest to meet his goals. That said, his journal sure makes for interesting reading!

Paddle to the Arctic is the account of Starkell’s three separate attempts to kayak from Churchill, Manitoba to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories. Each attempt is fraught with relationship breakdowns and near-death experiences. For anyone who has ever attempted a big wilderness trip, this journal will bring back a flood of memories. His occasional navigational blunders rang true with me!

One of the highlights of this book are the maps and photos. There are three healthy sections of photos to help you envision the sort of terrain Starkell and company had to deal with. There’s an excellent map at the beginning of the book, and smaller maps at the head of each chapter. This, combined with the sparse journal-style prose, places the reader right into the adventure.

This is a great volume to read during the off-season when you’re itching for that next big paddle.

• Survive!: My Fight for Life in the High Sierras © 2005
• Simon & Schuster
• 241 pages

Compelling and irritating are the two best words I can think of to describe Survive. Fortunately, compelling beat irritating and I finished the book. Let me explain.

Survive is DeLeo’s true story about surviving a plane crash followed by 12 weeks of travel in the High Sierras. DeLeo came close to death a number of nights as he fought hypothermia with sheer discipline. As you read his account, you can feel the breathtaking urgency of his situation. By the end of the book I both respected and admired DeLeo’s fighting spirit.

Now for irritating. At times this book is just downright condescending. He explains flight jargon and acronyms in a way that makes the reader feel foolish for not knowing the various trivia. I also can’t believe DeLeo was as logical and patient as the narrative suggests. I almost put the book away when I read for the third time how he religiously took inventory of his person and checked his rectum for blood.

In the end, I’m glad I read it. It’s a gripping—if slightly annoying—story of human gumption in the face of near-impossible odds.

• Canoeing with the Cree ©1935
• Minnesota Historical Society Press (1968)
• 206 pages

Imagine letting your 17 and 19 year old son and friend, with no experience, paddle a canoe 2,250 miles through two countries to Hudson Bay. That’s exactly what Sevareid chronicles.

The writing is simple and direct. Dialogue is interspersed with narration in just the right proportion to illuminate the team dynamics.

Don’t read this as an instructional guide! Here’s the passage that made me cringe the most:

The stern man, who must assume the greatest responsibility, would rise to his feet as we drifted swiftly toward the leaping white water. He would choose the best route among the rocks, the best line of kicking riffles to follow. He would give his directions and then, paddling with all our might, to get up more speed than the current itself, we would drive the Sans Souci [their canoe] . . . straight at the dashing foam. . . . Your speed must be greater than that of the current, or you will have no leverage to twist and throw the canoe from one angle to another (157-8, 159).

I’ve run rapids under full load—it pays to drop in slower than the current for more control. It’s a wonder these boys made it the whole way! Even thought their inexperience shows through it doesn’t detract from the narrative. In fact, their trial-by-fire reminded me of some of the mistakes I’ve made on earlier trips. I applaud these boys for their effort.

The climax of the book is a juxtaposition of the most difficult and isolated part of the river with the most depressed mental state of two river-weary travelers. Sevareid narrated their “great test” with an endearing honesty.

This is a great book to read while you’re waiting for your own next trip.

• Running the Amazon © 1989
• Random House: Vintage Books
• 279 pages

This is more than a paddling story—it’s travel/adventure writing at its finest. The book chronicles the first team to paddle the entire length of the Amazon River, from its sickness-inducing heights in the mountains of Peru to the Atlantic Ocean.

There are a number of stories intertwined between the covers [I have to add: my cover was glued on upside-down which led my wife to wonder on occasion whether I was just pretending to read!]:

1. The first-to-do-it story: the fact that no one had done this before brings an element of excitement to the text.
2. The survival story: the technical paddling in the mountains will raise the pulse of anyone who has shot rapids before.
3. The team-work (or lack thereof) story: Kane nails the tension and shifting allegiances between the team members. This puts a human face on the story which transcends paddling literature.
4. The morphing nature of the river story: following this river from extreme remoteness to sprawling world-class city is fascinating. It was gripping to hear how different people received the team throughout the trip and how the various people were able to exist on the shifting river.
5. The author’s story: Kane went from outsider-reporter to full-fledged paddler during the six months of this trip. That was quite a metamorphosis!

You don’t need to be a paddler to read this—paddling is just one aspect of this multi-faceted work of art.

• Sand County Almanac (Outdoor Essays & Reflections) ©1949, 1953
• Ballantine/Random House
• 295 pages

A storm blew up out of nowhere this spring while I was solo paddling the South Branch of the Muskoka river, just outside of Bracebridge. I pushed my canoe into the brush at the end of a secluded bay, and watched the storm approach. As it intensified, I pulled out this small paper-back book and read a section. That’s just the sort of book it is.

Leopold’s words read like poetry. You immediately realize that you’re in the company of someone who loves wilderness. The cover has a quote from the San Francisco Chronicle stating that this book belongs on the shelf with Thoreau and Muir. I heartily agree—so long as Sigurd Olson’s right there with them. Even better than the shelf: this book belongs in your backpack.

I had to pull my canoe out of the water, and turn it over to shelter my pack. I stood at the base of a large hemlock tree and watched the spring-time hail bounce off the scarred underbody of my 14 foot red solo canoe. A mere 15 minutes later the storm was over and I was back in the water. Leopold’s words far outlasted the storm.

• The Cabin: A Search for Personal Sanctuary © 2005
• Natural Heritage Books
• 175 pages

I’ve entrusted my life to Hap Wilson in the past: I’ve followed his maps through the backcountry of Temagami, and down the Missinaibi River. I have learned to respect his accurate map making and rapid-sketching skills. When I heard that he had written a memoir of the Temagami wilderness, I thought it would be well worth reading.

I have mixed feelings about the book. In the first place, Wilson is an excellent writer with a better-than-average vocabulary. He knows just how to hook you at the beginning of the chapter and to keep you enthralled to the end. I read this rather short book one chapter at a time to savour his craft. I also loved how his descriptive skills put me right back into the park where I have paddled in the past.

That said, it was frustrating to endure his attitude at times. The hyperbole in describing how difficult the country is was overwhelming. I’ve paddled much of the park, and have found it difficult but not unendurable. Aside from that, the most frustrating thing was Hap’s sense of entitlement. In one chapter, he describes his anger at the government who burned down his illegally constructed cabin—while he, as a park ranger, burns down the structures of other squatters.

This issue came to a point for me when I read his comments on organized religion:

I had lost faith in organized religion because of the hypocrisy of its flock and the audacity of its tenets in the face of Nature.

One could lose faith in the environmental movement for the same reason.

(Thanks to my sister, Kathy, for this Christmas gift.)

• High latitudes: A northern journey © 2002
• Key Porter Books
• 300 pages

I’ve got a soft spot for Mowat. He’s the Don Cherry of environmentalism. He’s the cranky opinionated guy that I too often find myself agreeing with!

In High Latitudes, Mowat recounts his 1966 trip through the Canadian arctic. This book is more than a Mowat tale—there are extended sections where Mowat inserts verbatim interviews with people he met in the north.

The book rambles and seems a little too long at times. The only narrative thread holding the work together is the map of the trip. Still, there’s something compelling about Mowat’s passion for the arctic.

• Wintergreen: Reflections from Loon Lake © 1999
• Key Porter Books
• 150 pages

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

If you’ve ever spent time in the wilderness, you should read this book. You will find yourself mentally revisiting all the places you’ve camped. More than that, Hummel will make you want to return to the outdoors. Hummel’s love for nature is so contagious, I found myself wanting to learn everything I could about even the flora in my backyard!

My golden standard for wilderness writing is anything by Sigurd Olson (Especially The Singing Wilderness and Runes of the North). This book by Hummel ranks right up there with Sigurd.