Books I Read in 2019

Age of Myth by Michael J. Sullivan ****
Star Trek: New Visions - Volume Eight by John Byrne ***
These are the Voyages: Gene Roddenberry and Star Trek in the 1970s - Volume One 1970-1975 by Marc Cushman ****
Secrets From the Vinyl Cafe by Stuart McLean *****
Understanding Exposure by Bryan Peterson ***1/2
Professor at Large -- The Cornell Years by John Cleese ***
Erebus by Michael Palin ****
The Landscape Photography Book by Scott Kelby ***1/2
American Moonshot: John F. Kennedy and the Great Space Race by Douglas Brinkley ***
Shoot for the Moon by James Donovan ***1/2
Becoming Superman by J. Michael Straczynski *****
Star Trek: The Entropy Effect by Vonda N. McIntyre ***
Star Trek: Ex Machina by Christopher L. Bennett ***1/2
Star Trek: The Official Guide to the Animated Series by Aaron Harvey and Rich Schepis ***1/2
Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe ****
Star Trek: The USS Enterprise NCC-1701 and 1701-A Illustrated Handbook edited by Ben Robinson ****
Promise and Peril: Justin Trudeau in Power by Aaron Wherry ***
Nuking the Moon by Vince Houghton ***
1922 by Stephen King ***

Death at SeaWorld

Is there a benefit to keeping orcas in captivity? From a very narrow point of view, there probably is, as thousands of people can see these magnificent creatures who probably would never get the chance to. But what they are seeing is not typical orca behaviour in the wild; there are seeing glorified circus animals doing tricks and stunts far removed from their normal behaviours. And though the risk to trainers is now abundantly obvious, what of the risk to the physical, and perhaps more important, the mental health of the whales? Can intelligent, social and vocal animals with huge natural ranges be housed in what are essentially giant bathtubs, either in isolation or with unfamilliar orcas from different lineages with whom they can't communicate, without going a little nuts? As a child growing up here in Victoria, one of the most popular tourist attractions in city was Sealand of the Pacific. And perhaps the Sealand experience is a microcosm of the story of orcas in capitivity. Nowhere is that question of captivity more relevant than in the history of Sealand, and in the deaths of Miracle, and Keltie Byrne. Miracle was a young juvenile orca found alone, shot, and starving on the east coast of Vancouver Island in 1977. She was captured and moved to Sealand, a six hour drive on the back of a flat bed truck. She survived the trip, but when she was released into a tank at Sealand, she sank to the bottom of the pool. Rescuers pulled her to the surface, and she began a long and difficult road to return to health, but she beats the odds. A Miracle. She eventually became a star attraction at Sealand, but in January, 1982, she somehow became entangled in the nets of her sea pen and drowned. Keltie Byrne was a trainer at Sealand. In late 1991, she slipped and fell into a tank with Tilikum and two other orcas. Sealand, unlike SeaWorld, did not do any water training -- the trainers never went in the water with the whales -- so having a trainer in the water was a new situation for the whales. Tilikum took her under the water and held her there, blocking her escape from the tank. Eventually all three whales began playing with their visitor. It took hours to retrieve Keltie's body from the pool. She was the first trainer ever killed by a captice orca. Sealand closed within a year. Tilikum was sold to SeaWorld. This is a heck of a lot of back story to get into for a book review, but David Kirby's Death at SeaWorld opens with Keltie's death, and Tilikum would go to even greater infamy, causing two more deaths at SeaWorld, including the title incident of the book. These are astonishingly intelligent creatures, as evidenced by a chapter when the author relates the story of a scientist running visual and aural training on two recently captured orcas and it quickly became apparent that in actuality the orcas were running tests on the scientist. Equally astonishing is the utter ignorance with which orca trappers went about their work in the 1960s and 1970s. Working under the mistaken assumption that the local waters contained hundreds if not thousands of orcas, on one memorable day trappers netted almost all of the local resident orcas in one net. Some they let go, some they took away to transport to interested aquariums, some they killed, tying concrete blocks to their bodies so they would sink. They conceivably could have sold or killed all of them, not realizing that it indeed would have been all of them, all of the local residents. It wasn't until a few years later in the the mid-1970s that scientists actually counted the local orcas, and were surprised to discover how few of them there really are. For anyone interested in the history of humanity's relationship with a fellow mammal, this should be required reading. The book tends to get bogged down with the legal ramifications of Tilikum's behaviour in its last third, but is utterly fascinating with its twin tales of modern orca research and the history of orcas in captivity. Here's some bonus content. These are pictures my father took at a show at Victoria's Sealand of the Pacific in the fall of 1971. I'm not positive which whale is pictured. It's not Tilikum, and my guess is it's probably Haida.

Kayak Across the Atlantic

In June of 2000, Pete Bray launched from St. John's. Newfoundland in an attempt to be the first person to kayak solo and unsupported across the Atlantic Ocean. Within a few hours, his kayak cabin was flooding, the cockpit was leaking, all his electronics including his communications gear was wrecked, and he was forced to take to his life raft, whose bottom was ripped and also leaking. And that's just the first eight pages of his book. Fortunately, [SPOILER ALERT] Pete was quickly rescued and tried a second and [SPOILER ALERT] more successful attempt in 2001. His memoir of his crossing is a short but enjoyable read, describing the preparations for both attempts, as well as the lessons learned from the aborted first attempt. He tells the tale of his 76-day crossing in a breezy and relaxed fashion, from the solar-powered gear that had trouble recharging because the sun never shined, to the publicist who had a strange aversion to seeking publicity. His tome is light and slim, but if you enjoy expedition stories, this is worth checking out.

A Dip in the Ocean

In April 2009, Susan Outen began a four-month solo paddling odyssey across the Indian Ocean from Australia to Mauritius. Mourning the death of her father, she paddled in his honour, raising money for charity. And she wrote a pretty fine book, too. Through her charm and self-deprecating wit, Sarah writes of her preparations, her rocky start, her customs troubles, her 500 chocolate bars, the long lonely voyage and the voyage's rocky but [SPOILER ALERT] successful conclusion. Her spirit and determination shine through the pages of her story. So what does the first woman and youngest person to paddle across the Indian Ocean do for an encore? Currently she's making her way around the world on human power. Follow her adventure on Twitter, or at her London2London web site.

Paddle to the Amazon

In June of 1980, Don Starkell and his teenaged-son Dana embarked on an adventure they had been planning for years: to canoe from Winnipeg, in the middle of the Canadian prairie, to the mouth of the Amazon River in Brazil. Even after finishing Don's book, it still sounds like a crazy idea. Paddle the Red River upstream from Winnipeg, portage to the Mississippi River system, down the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico, around the Gulf and down the coast of Central and south America, then up the Orinoco River into the heart of Venezuela, then back down the Rio Negro and the Amazon to the sea. 2 years. 12,000 miles. 20,000,000 paddle strokes. Yet somehow, they pulled it off. Between the arduous paddling, the over-zealous soldiers and policía, terrible weather, and bouts of near-starvation and intestinal upsets, Don and Dana somehow survive, not always because of Don's skill as an expedition leader (or some may say lack thereof), but often only thanks to the kindness and generosity of some of the poorest people on the planet. Don's diary is a classic story of adventure and survival against insane odds. Well worth checking out.

The Fat Paddler

Sean Smith and I share a couple of similarities. We both kayak, we both overcame injuries to continue kayaking, and we're both, er, not so thin. But there are some differences as well; the injuries Sean suffered were far more serious than mine, and he's written a great book about his experiences. In The Fat Paddler, Sean recounts the two life-threatening car accidents that curtailed his physical activity and lead him into a spiral of depression. Unable to continue playing rugby after his second accident, he hurt too much, ate too much, drank too much and smoked too much until he rediscovered kayaking. And it quite probably saved his life. Sean tells his story is a breezy and engaging manner, not shying away from the dark moments in his life, but not dwelling on them either, and presents the story of his recovery through kayaking in an entertaining style. He takes us through his accidents and his long recoveries, his being witness to a terrorist bombing, the lingering after-effects of his injuries, and the decline in his health and his spirit, but he also takes us through the to the other side as he re-engages with his family, his life and himself. And there's some yummy recipes in the back of the book. There's no grand adventure here, no deep ocean crossing or a circumnavigation first, just a bloke who re-awakens his soul and rediscovers his zest for life through the sport that he loves.

South Solo

Three years ago, Hayley Shephard set out on an expedition to paddle solo around South Georgia Island, a remote island in the south Atlantic. Looked at strictly as an expedition, one could make the case that it was an abject failure. A serious injury to a crew member of her support vessel almost scuttled the paddle before it began, and the delay while a replacement was found left Hayley with a reduced weather window. Her primary kayak was smashed up during delivery. Held up by high winds, she was unable to complete her circumnavigation before she had to fly home, and she completed only about one-third of of her expected distance. But, as the old Rush lyric goes, “the point of the journey is not to arrive,” and the point of Hayley’s journey was to publicize the plight of the albatross. In her book South Solo: Kayaking to Save the Albatross, Hayley describes how endangered species of albatross are struggling to survive as increased fishing takes its toll on them as they fatally strike hooked bait fish on longlines, and as we continue to poison our oceans...and theirs. In her book, Hayley takes us through her expedition planning, her travel to the south Atlantic, and the tribulations that almost scuttled the whole expedition before it began. But it’s her encounters with the South Georgia wildlife during her truncated sojourn that stand out for me, as she wonderfully describes encounters with penguins, seals, and, of course, albatross. (And the book has some terrific colour pictures, something I wish more kayaking books would have. But I digress.)

Fearless

Most of us can't remember all the things we've done during the course of a whole year, but when it comes to 2009, Freya Hoffmeister shouldn't have that problem because during that year she essentially did only one thing: she kayaked around Australia. Staring in January of that year, she paddled nearly 14,000 km and became the second person to circumnavigate Australia by kayak, completing the journey in 332 days, beating the record of Paul Caffyn, the first person to complete the trip, by almost a month. Joe Glickson's account of Freya's trip is an engaging and enjoyable read, although it must be said that Joe seems almost pathologically determined to mention every time that she paddled topless. Which was apparently quite a bit. While Joe is able to describe the details of Freya's expedition, he is by his own admission much less successful when describing Freya who at times seems to be a reticent subject. We learn that she's, well, fearless, but we spend precious little time behind the façade of the so-called Woman in Black. But while insights into why a person would want to spend a year of their life on such a journey are few, the details are fully covered, and there's no question that Freya accomplishment was amazing. And the book's pretty good, too. And what is Freya doing for an encore? Currently she's kayaking around South America. Follow her adventure here.

Paddle to the Arctic/Kabloona in the Yellow Jacket

In the early 1980s, Don Starkell and his son Dana paddled a canoe from Winnipeg to the mouth of the Amazon river in Brazil. For an encore in the 1990s, Don attempted to kayak the fabled Northwest Passage in the Canadian Arctic, from Churchill, Manitoba to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territory. His first attempt in 1990, a solo attempt, ended quickly after a disastrous spill on his third day of paddling. It took him nine days of paddling through wretched conditions to return to his starting point. Despite vowing never to return, in 1991 he returned for another try, this time with two other paddlers. One soon dropped out of the expedition but the other, Victoria Jason, continued on with Don and together they paddled as far as Repulse Bay on the northern shore of Hudson Bay. Despite the utter incompatibility of their personalities, they returned to Repulse Bay in 1992 to continue the journey. They set out from Repulse Bay attempting to follow Don's plan to pull their kayaks on sleds across the frozen ice until they reached open water from which to launch from. The two of them pulled their kayaks across the ice for almost three weeks, until Vicki had to withdraw due to injuries. Don continued on alone, pulling his kayak for another three weeks before reaching open water. Injuries, bad weather and bad choices worked against Don, and he almost met his demise just miles from his destination. He was rescued, but severe frostbite cost him most of his fingers and some of his toes. There's enough adventures here for more than one book, and in fact two did grew out of this expedition: Starkell's Paddle to the Arctic, and Jason's Kabloona in the Yellow Kayak. And if you've ever wanted to experience a "he said, she said" version of how a kayaking expedition can go wrong, this is as probably as good as you're going to get. It's clear from his book that Starkell was a driven man, and seemingly would let almost nothing get in the way of completing his expedition. Not even his paddling partners. He consistently and often rudely ignored advice from his partners and from the local residents and indigenous peoples who knew how to survive in this remote and dangerous part of the world. Despite years of planning, he made mistakes like neglecting to pack all the charts required or checking that his kayak compass was working correctly before setting out. In one notably gaffe, he lead himself and Jason over 100 km off course by paddling east when he though he was paddling west. Even the sun rising from the totally opposite side of the horizon than it should was not enough to convince him that he might be wrong. I lost count of how many times in this book the phrase "Instead, I decided to play a hunch" was followed a page or so later by "It didn't go the way I expected." I'm not suggesting this isn't a good book -- it is -- but you will be pulling your hair out as Starkell's situation goes from bad to worse. To be fair, Starkell seems to realize that many of the obstacles were of his own making, and he is a much humbler man at the end of the book.

Victoria's story doesn't end when she pulls out of the 1992 expedition. Her book covers not only the 1991 and 1992 expeditions in all their exasperating details, but her return to Arctic in 1993 and 1994 when she kayaked down the McKenzie River from Great Slave Lake to the Arctic Ocean and then continued along the northern shore, duplicating the final leg of Don's trip but in reverse. And it's here that her book really shines, with wonderful descriptions of the scenery and people she meets along the way. She returned in 1996 to paddle the parts of the original trip that was accomplished by sled in 1992, and returned to the Arctic again over the next couple of years. She was working on another book on her further Arctic adventures when took ill and passed away in 2000. These books are the classic example of what can happen when not understanding your partner's motivation to for paddling. In this case, one was paddling for the experience of it, while the other was paddling it apparently just for the sake of doing it. As Neil Peart once wrote in a Rush song, "The point of the journey is not to arrive."

Paddle - A Long Way Around Ireland

There's not a lot of the Sturm und Drang that sometimes populates kayaking books in Jasper Winn's Paddle, a memoir of his solo paddle around Ireland. While he does describe a few hair-raising paddling incidents that threatened to end his journey prematurely, he often entertains the reader with stories of his nightly bar-hopping with the enchanting residents of coastal Ireland, a tale he spins seemingly effortlessly. A terrific book that any paddler will enjoy.

Encounters From a Kayak

It's a little too late for Christmas 2012, but it's never too early start thinking of gift ideas for Christmas 2013. And the favourite kayaker on your list would probably enjoy the latest book by Nigel Foster, Encounters From a Kayak. A collection of Foster's past articles recalling many of his kayaking adventures from around the world, Foster is at ease retelling stories ranging from bluffing Chinese police so he could kayak a river in Shanghai, to eating buried shark in Iceland (and yes, that will make sense when you read the book). So get an early start on next year's shopping. Remember: there's only 356 shopping days to go.

Southern Exposure

In 2000 Chris Duff became the second person to complete a solo kayak circumnavigation of the South Island of New Zealand. In Southern Exposure, his memoir of his journey, Duff offers up a thrilling story, starting with his inspiration, research and preparation. After he launches, we follow along as he endures long periods alone, harsh winds, the imposing Fjordland region, and crazy surf landings, including the harrowing attempted landing that wrecked his boat and damn near wrecked him. Featuring many pictures and maps this is a terrific read for those of you who like travel adventure books.

Rowed Trip

Adventurers Colin and Julie Angus decided early in their marriage to explore the roots of their respective families -- Colin's from Scotland, and Julie's from Syria and Germany. Since Colin had previously circled the earth under human power, joined on part of his journey by Julie, another human-powered expedition seemed to be in order. They choose to row and bicycle from Scotland to Syria, travelling the canals and rivers of Europe in a pair of specially designed row boats whenever possible, or towing them behind their bikes on trailers when rowing was impractical.
The resultant trip is documented in their book Rowed Trip. From the north of Scotland, peddle and paddle their way down through England, out the Thames, across the English Channel, through France and Germany, then down the Danube to the Black Sea to Syria, this fun and exciting read recounts the Angus's encounters, from with snotty lock-masters along the canals of England and border bureaucracy in Europe, to the seemingly endless supplies of hospitality and assistance offered up by total strangers. In fact, if there is one theme that runs through this and the Angus' previous adventures, it is that almost every stranger they encounter willingly offers kindness and good cheer, if not food and lodging.
This is another in the Angus' growing library of well-told expedition stories.

Confessions of a Wave Warrior

In the 1980s, Eric Soares, together with other like-minded individuals, formed the Tsumani Rangers, a rag-tag collection of kayakers specializing in taking surfing and rock gardening to the edge and beyond.
Eric's new book, Confessions of a Wave Warrior, tells the story of his kayaking career, from childhood adventures to a stint in the navy, to discovering kayaking and the keen friendships he his forged in the paddling community through the years, and recovering from heart surgery. Soares presents his stories in an engaging and humerous style, almost as if he's sitting next to you in a pub and regaling you with his tall tales -- I can almost smell the ale and fried food. Along the way he drops in notions about his philosophy for life, and even lets other Rangers spin a yarn or two.
Perhaps not it's the most in-depth and detailed of kayaking books you'll read this year, but certainly one of the most enjoyable. Anyone who enjoys stories of kayakers taking it to the edge will enjoy this.

The Golden Spruce

To the natives of Haida Gwaii it was a mythical symbol that had stood on their homeland for hundreds of years. To loggers and environmentalists it was symbol of what was being lost in the rain forests of BC to axe and machine. To all, it was a wonder -- a unique golden Sitka spruce tree, surrounded by a stand of its green brethren until a winter night in 1997 when it was cut down in a bizarre environmental protest.
John Vaillant's award-winning book The Golden Spruce recounts the tale of Grant Hadwin, a long-time forester and expert outdoorsman, who came to hate the destruction being waged in the forests and fought against it, while at the same time apparently descending into madness and psychosis. Struggling to find a way to protest the destruction of the forests, he made his way to Haida Gwaii (formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands), took a chainsaw to the golden spruce, and escaped back to the mainland. He was quickly arrested, but possibly believing that his life would be in danger should he use public transportation to return to Haida Gwaii for the trial, he chose instead to kayak solo from Prince Rupert on the mainland to the islands across Hecate Strait which at times can be one of the nastiest pieces of water on the BC coast. Althoug he was an experienced outdoorsman, he was at best a novice kayaker, and he paddled out into the winter's fury and was never seen again.
But Vaillant's book is about more than just Hadwin's collapse into depression. Vaillant recounts the history of the Haida, their encounters with European explorers and the near destruction of their native culture that those encounters wrought, and the significance of the golden spruce to Haida culture. He also explores the history of logging in British Columbia, and the all-too human dichotomy that many loggers feel -- that the destruction and raping of the forests is awful and regrettful, but hey, it's a living.
Although Hadwin's kayak was found smashed up months later on a small island in Alaska, some believe that he staged the wreck and simply disappeared into the wild he loved so much and knew so well. Some think that if anyone could have pulled off a disappearing act in the middle of absolutely nowhere with little or no supplies, it was Hadwin. He'd done it before.
The Golden Spruce is a terrific book that I can't recommend highly enough.

On Celtic Tides

In 1996, Chris Duff kayaked around Ireland. On Celtic Tides is a terrific account of his twelve-hundred mile journey around the Emerald Isle. Duff documents with rich prose the sweeping cliffs and snarling waters he encountered, as well as his encounters with various folk who invariably ask when told that Duff is planning to paddle around Ireland, “In that little boat? Are you mad?”
He may not have been mad, but the idea of kayaking solo around Ireland in three months is a daunting one, and Duff’s narrative takes us into the quaint villages along the coast, the ancient ruins and castles that dot the shore, and the blistering storms and waves that batter the western shore.
It’s a wonderful read, taking us from moments of quiet introspection as Duff visits ancient pagan ruins, to moments of exhilaration and terror as Duff battles surging tides and waves along the battered open coastline. Highly recommended.

Solo

To this day, Andrew McAuley remains something of a controversial figure to some in the kayaking community. Some would consider his risk-taking adventures as acts of foolhardiness and selfishness, especially in light of his young family that he left behind. Others would say that he lived the life that we wanted to live on his own terms, fully knowing and weighing the risks that his adventure-seeking lifestyle demanded.
And it’s this issue that we adventure sports participants wrestle with every time we take part in the sports we love so much, whether we feel at home in 10 metre waves, or scurry to shore at the first sign of a ripple in the water. Is it worth staying out when the weather looks dodgy, or the wind picks up, or the waves get gnarly? We want to challenge ourselves, to do something few have done, to have an “experience,” but what of the cost? Do we play it safe? Or do we, literally, get in over our heads? At the end of the day, no matter our skill level or desire for adventure, we all want to go home.
In many ways, this is the central dilemma in Vicki McAuley’s new book Solo, the tragic story of her husband’s ill-fated solo kayak crossing of the Tasman Sea in 2007. Andrew, whose draft text for his own now-uncompleted book about the crossing is quoted extensively, describes his wish to be the first to paddle across the 1600 km sea as a dangerous and selfish quest, yet he is driven to accomplish his dream, believing his life would remain unfulfilled should he never attempt it. He seems torn, understanding the anguish he is putting his family through by taking on this risky venture, and it seems at times that the right word from Vicki would halt the expedition planning and he would like his dream go, yet she can’t bring herself to show any weakness that she feels may undermine her husband’s confidence.
The book describes Andrew’s career in mountain-climbing until a near-fatal fall ended it, and his growing interest in extreme expedition kayaking, then moves up to his preparations for his Tasman crossing, his aborted first attempt, then the crossing itself, and its sad conclusion, and Vicki’s battle with grief and depression afterwards. And it leaves questions that will never be answered. Did Andrew truly appreciate the magnitude of the endeavour he was undertaking? Did he rush his preparations and planning fearing that another expedition might make the crossing first?
It’s a gripping story and told well, with Vicki’s heartbreak dripping off almost every page. He was an extraordinary individual, and

The Wave

As kayakers, we seek them out, and we avoid them. We harness them and ride them. We even generate them. And in Susan Casey's latest book, she seeks out the the biggest waves she can find.
In The Wave, she follows the world's best extreme surfers as they travel the world in search of the elusive 100-foot ride. From Hawaii to Mexico to the Far East, she follows the elite of the sport as they push the barrier between remarkable and reckless. With eloquent language and in the manner of Vicki McAuley's Solo or Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, she explores the need of some people to push the edge almost to the point of falling over it. And a fall off waves like Mavericks or Jaws could be a life-altering or life-ending experience.
But she doesn't limit her search for the big waves to the surfing beaches. She consulted with physicists and oceanographers to learn the latest science on the creation of rogue waves, and the effects climate change is having on the oceans. She met with salvagers who take control of disabled tankers and cargo ships after their crews have been rescued. And she explored an inlet in Alaska that in 1958 suffered stunning damage from a 1,700 foot-tall tsunami. (Yes, 1,700 feet. That is not a typo.)
It's a rollicking good read and will take you as close as words can to sliding up a big one on a board as the foam splashes around you, and the thunder rattles up through your bones.

Sea Kayaker: Deep Trouble

I received this book as a Christmas gift a couple of years ago and I knew right away it would be an interesting read. During the evening’s celebrations, I randomly flipped open the book and the first sentence I read was, “Mike watches as a huge great white shark lunges up through the surface, latches it jaws around the kayak, just behind me, and then blasts more than half of its giant bulk out of the water.” Clearly, this is my kind of book!
But seriously, this book by Matt Broze and George Gronseth is based on the accident report feature in Sea Kayaker magazine. Each chapter of the book is organized similarly to the feature in the magazine: an incident report, followed by a “lesson learned” conclusion. This is my favourite section of the magazine -- informative, educational, and even entertaining if your tastes include a touch of schadenfreude -- and the stories culled for the book fit also that description. Apart from the above-mention shark attack, there’s a number of similar themes that run through the stories: weather that unexpectedly turned bad, novice kayakers that get in over their heads in rough conditions (some of them literally), and experienced kayakers under estimating calmer conditions forgoing their usual safety routines and equipment. And not all the stories end happily.
The book also features a large section on kayak safety and numerous sidebars discussing skills, gear and techniques. Highly entertaining and highly recommended.

Lost in Mongolia

Two years after Colin Angus and two buddies descended down the Amazon in a rubber raft, Colin was taking part in another adventure. This time he and his companions were descending the entire length of the the Yenisey River in Russia, one of the last great rivers in the world to be travelled from source to mouth. Using kayaks and a raft, they journeyed from Mongolia through the Siberian outback to the Arctic Ocean battling floods, heat waves and the Russian mob. And along the way, the group gets separated after the raft capsizes and Colin has to survive with supplies or clean water for twelve days. [SPOILER ALERT: Obviously, he survived to write the book, entitled appropriately Lost in Mongolia.]
Another in Angus’s growing collection of true-life travel tales, it’s a solidly written yarn of adventure in a strange land and well-worth checking out.