Customer Reviews

A Canoeist's Sketchbook

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If you've ever paddled a canoe through a wilderness waterway, then Maine writer Robert Kimber's A Canoeist's Sketchbook will be sure to please you with its thoughtful and practical musings. If canoeing is not for you, then this book of essays is all the more important as a window to the challenging pleasure of remote places.

While the book's intent is "neither to instruct nor to chronicle," it contains some interesting and often philosophical commentary on gear, which Kimber selects for its utility and elegance. He writes with wry humor about the simple cotton canvas rain tarp: "What's the ideal size? I don't know, though I do know that no matter how large a tarp is, it could always be larger when I'm under it, and when it's time to pack it, it could always be smaller."

One of Kimber's more evocative essays is about what he calls "one of the saddest sights in North America:" the site where central Labrador's Churchill River used to plummet 250 feet in a spectacular waterfall, now sacrificed to a hydroelectric plant. Another essay draws a parallel between his river experience and Conrad's Heart of Darkness, in which paying attention to the surface is the only salvation from the danger lurking in the depths. In yet another he marvels at the ever-changing nature of the places he's passed through and considers Claude Monet's fascination with the "fugitive effect" of the River Seine, which he painted again and again.

If you wonder how a canoe party accesses these remote areas, all will be answered by the essay titled "QNS and L." The Quebec North Shore and Labrador Railway runs 261 miles through the wilderness between Sept-Iles, Quebec to Labrador City. This is no Amtrak! If you enjoy unusual train rides, this essay is for you.

Kimber, who has canoed extensively in the wilderness of Maine, Quebec, Labrador and New Brunswick, approached this book as "...a declaration of love to the bend in the river and the expanse of the big lake, to black spruce and dwarf birch." Read it for yourself and feel the joy of those unspoiled places.

Linda Bulger, 2008

Those of us who venture into the wilderness will be familiar with the litany of questions with which our mystified friends and relatives bombard us. Distilled to their essence, they amount to, "Why in the world would you go canoeing or hiking in the bush and subject yourself to danger, deprivation, cold, rain, bugs, sleeping on the ground and physical hard work when you could just as easily choose to vacation in a five-star hotel? Are you guys nuts?" The answer, of course, is that we don't believe so but we are often at a loss for words to explain our love for the wilderness.

In a series of compelling essays that touch on everything from equipment choices and skills; wind, rain, hail, snow and other assorted weather conditions; navigation and map reading; fire, warmth, comfort and on-trail contentment; food, both real and not so appetizing; beauty; shelter; getting wet; tippling on the trail and (gasp) even sex in the out of doors, Robert Kimber, part philosopher, part humorist and 100% skilled outdoorsman, answers the question. Avid canoeists and hikers will nod in agreement and offer a sigh in appreciation of Kimber's outstanding prose and magnificent artistry. Those readers who have never ventured beyond the city will undoubtedly begin to understand the magnetic appeal that the wilderness holds for many of us.

Perhaps the best way to convey Kimber's skills as a wordsmith is to provide a series of short quotations that will give a potential reader the flavour of an entire book.

"I wanted to see mile after mile of river and lake opening before me; to get an inkling from the wilderness we still have of what all creation was once like; to muse alone on a rock ledge at moonrise ..."

On the virtues of comfort, skilled use of proper equipment and the fallacy of "roughing it":

"--Roughing it--has always struck me as a dumb phrase. It suggests that there is some kind of virtue in discomfort and inconvenience. Just get wet, cold, hungry, and exhausted enough, it says, and you will experience the true essence of the outdoors. Untrue. The only thing you'll experience is wet, cold, hunger and exhaustion. You won't have any energy or attention left over to appreciate the flight of the kingfisher or the damp touch of the morning mist on your face or the raccoon tracks in the mud or any of the other little million things there are to attend to."

And on the utter, unadulterated joy of finding the perfect campsite:

"But delicious as the sights of this idyllic spot were - the maples, the little bogan across the river, the stand of pines near it, the sky, the clouds, the play of the leaves in the breeze, the curve and play of the river - the most enchanting thing about it was the sound, the lapping and gurgling of the water, not the rush and roar of a rapid but instead this gentle, soothing sound of moving water making its way around and over the low barrier of the ledge, then dissipating its energy, swirling, flattening out."

It would be a cold-hearted reader that wouldn't be emotionally touched by such eloquent writing and at least wish they had it in them to try their hand at a trip into the wilderness, however short and simple.

"A Canoeist's Sketchbook" wasn't quite as good as an actual trip into the bush but it certainly brought a broad smile to my face. Highly recommended.

Paul Weiss

A Canoeist's Sketchbook is an anthology of canoeing essays written by a dedicated canoeist, covering topics that range from exploring the wilderness, to the joy of paddling, to practical advice for canoeing and camping in remote locations. A handful of black-and-white illustrations add a genteel touch to this fond reminiscence of experiencing nature, as vivid as can be experienced short of going out to see for oneself. Recommended, enjoyable, and practical reading for anyone interested in taking up canoeing as a hobby.