Navigations

by Ted Kerasote

The author recounts his travels through South America, Alaska, and Colorado, and shares his observations on life.

Genres: Travel

Hardcover

First published August 1, 1986

About the author

Ted Kerasote's writing has spanned the globe and appeared in dozens of periodicals and anthologies, including Audubon, National Geographic Traveler, Outside, Salon, and The New York Times. He is also the author and editor of six books, one of which, Out There: In the Wild in a Wired Age, won the National Outdoor Book Award. He lives in Wyoming.

Reviews

[Sienna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kersaote's books on his relationships with his dogs have been some of my favorites. I wanted to see what he was like before the dogs. Definitely a driven & interesting person.

[Cindy Dyson Eitelman · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ted Kerasote's Navigations starts off weak--in my opinion, only--but ends very, very strong. Masterly strong. My issue with the first few essays--travels, really--is that they skimmed the surface. My surface. I have to keep pointing out that an opinion of a book like this is highly personal. A different person could have opposite and equally valid feelings.

But even when I didn't feel the connection with the author, I much enjoyed reading his adventures. His quest for A Record Snook is simply a fishing tale--hooking the fish, crashing through the surf, feeling his fish's indecision and then realizing with a hopeless determination it had decided to swim into the river where following it would require wading through a log jam and climbing the roots of a huge snag. Sometimes, when you're reading such adventure, you get a better feel for the countryside than if the author was simply describing it, from a high vantage point. It's a whole lot different thing to see a massive tree fallen in the river, gnarly roots exposed in a hideous snarl, than it is to climb over such an obstacle. Kerasote takes you with him.

Later on he described some years spent with his wife--a time when two people were greatly in love with each other but eternally pulled apart by their passions--dancing and climbing, for her; travel and writing, for him. I could see a lot of guys being turned off by this section--where's the sport? Where's the record fish, the sub-three-hour marathon, the search for the perfect, trophy Line? (that's a skiing route, best I can understand.) What's with all this emotional crap?

I didn't mind. But I have to say my favorite stories are ones like "Neva Hurry" where he confronts the contrast between his schedule as a working author of short stories, which involves deadlines, airline schedules, endless meetings, and his need to slow down and feel life...to dabble in a river for trout, get a hit at the eleventh hour, slowly release his catch, a breeding-sized female, then hold his hands in the freezing water until they ache.

It was a dark pool, dark as the bridge shadow over which I had stood the evening before, dark as a slow brown smile of Carib Billy Joe and as smooth, glossy, and continually moving as one's life in retrospect--when all the mindless hurry, inscrutable hurry, and senseless ambition have passed into what we kindly call wisdom. Into this pool, with a delicate plop, I dropped my hare's ear nymph.

[skipped a bit here, sorry...the nymph stopped moving.]

I gave a tremendous whoop, which stampeded the contentedly grazing cows, and of course I also immediately fell into the fiver, shipping water over my starboard hip wader.
"Man, neva hurry."
Yes, Billy Joe, yes.

[Ensiform · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a largely captivating collection of essays (many previously published) on outdoor life, in which the author shares his adventures and reflections on nature, wildlife, and the human relationship with the natural world. He writes a great deal about fly fishing, but also hiking, mountain-climbing, wildlife photography, and running. The book is divided into three sections: "South," which details some experiences in South America; "North," which is mostly about tracking wildlife in the Alaskan wilderness and what oil exploration will do to these beautiful refuges (as of 1984); and "Home," which contains essays that take place in the lower 48 and Baja California. His writing is infused with a deep appreciation for the outdoors and a thoughtful consideration of how humans interact with and impact the environment.

I had never heard of the writer, but I enjoy travel writing, and Vintage Departures is a reliable imprint for travel writing. Not knowing anything about the book, I was surprised to find that it was essays rather than a fluid, continuous story. As a result, the pacing is uneven, veering between reflective, Thoreau-like musings and vivid, Krakauer-like adventure, but I enjoyed the diversity of flow. I also appreciated that his essays are not just descriptions of his travels but also thoughtful meditations on broader environmental themes. One of the strengths of the book is Kerasote's ability to weave personal anecdotes with broader ecological insights. Indeed, the final piece, in which he details the dissolution of his marriage because her desire to dance professionally didn't mesh with his itinerant, running/climbing/fishing lifestyle, is one of the strongest of the book, having real emotional impact. Finally, I was impressed with his refreshingly honest, self-effacing accounts of climbing a mountain with two fellow backpackers and running a marathon in the desert outside of Phoenix. These are visceral and pulse-pounding, an eye-opening portrayal of the physical toll such feats take on even a well-seasoned human body. Overall, Kerasote effectively communicates the sense of wonder and respect he has for the natural world, encouraging readers to reflect on their own relationship with nature. It's too bad that much of the world that he depicts has now been gamified, hyped, drilled, and fracked.