Sheila Burnford is only remembered for one book, but The Incredible Journey is a classic. The story pours forth like the tranquil flow of a mini waterfall in the forest; the main characters face daunting odds on their quest to reunite with family by crossing three hundred miles of Canadian wilderness, but the task is not impossible. The odyssey presents a question to the reader: how far you would go for your loved ones? It all starts with a simple misunderstanding in the home of John Longridge, a middle-aged man living in the backwoods of Ontario, Canada. A bachelor and writer, Longridge's practical needs are regularly tended to by Mr. and Mrs. Oakes, a couple residing nearby. This frees Longridge up to focus on writing, though the past several months have been different. Three pets are temporarily lodging with him as a favor to friends: an elderly white English bull terrier named Bodger, a Siamese cat named Tao, and a youthful red-gold Labrador retriever named Luath. The pets were visibly disconcerted when their owners, the Hunter family, left them with Longridge to accommodate a series of lectures Jim Hunter was to deliver at universities in England, but the dogs and cat eventually settled into a routine. Bodger still pined for Peter Hunter, the boy he has loved and belonged to for years, and Tao prefers the company of Peter's younger sister Elizabeth, but for now they're content to board with Longridge. Luath wants to get back to hunting with Jim, but he, too, stays put at Longridge's cabin, and probably would have remained there without incident until the Hunters returned if not for a fateful miscommunication.
For Longridge, extended hunting trips at the lodge he owns by Heron Lake are one of life's pure pleasures. Playing host to Bodger, Tao, and Luath puts a crimp in his plans to go this time, but there's an easy workaround: Mrs. Oakes can monitor the pets, feeding and spending a few moments with them around the house on a regular basis. Longridge pens a note detailing everything he requires of Mrs. Oakes during his absence, but Tao inadvertently spoils the clarity of the message. As Longridge drives off in his car alone, the Labrador decides the time has come to find the Hunters. Leading the way westward with deep conviction in what they are about to do, Luath is followed closely by the Siamese and hesitantly by the terrier, who doesn't have the stamina to walk more than a few miles even over smooth ground. The trio has no awareness that hundreds of miles of rocky, rutted path loom ahead. When Mrs. Oakes arrives to care for the pets, she finds a marred note written in Longridge's hand, and infers that he has taken the dogs and cat to Heron Lake. How many weeks will pass before the mistake is discovered?
Luath sets the pace, a strong young dog determined to find his family, and Tao and Bodger have difficulty keeping up. At least Tao can hunt for birds and other small animals, but Bodger's empty belly quickly undermines his energy on the trail. His thick body weighs heavy on his stubby legs, but the Labrador is reluctant to let him rest for long. Haste is important in crossing the wildlands; Luath always believes home is just over the next mountain, a place of safety where Peter and Elizabeth are waiting. The further the trio ventures into the Canadian bush, the more unpredictable the hazards; while making an extended stop for the terrier's sake, a bear cub ambles up and treats the old white dog like a toy, clawing his unprotected face and chewing his tail. Tao returns in the nick of time, fresh off a successful hunt. The terrier and the Siamese had some contentious moments at the start of their cohabitation with the Hunters long ago, but Bodger and Tao gradually formed a bond that now spurs the cat into a frenzy at the sight of the bear torturing his friend. The Siamese leaps at the big animal, slashing with his own sharp claws. The mother bear comes running, but is confronted by a pair of unfamiliar animals—a Siamese cat and a red-gold Labrador—and elects to retreat with her cub. Bodger's life is spared, but the message is painfully clear: he will be a liability in the miles ahead. Tao has thus far jealously guarded the food he has hunted, but begins sharing with Bodger after the bear attack. For all three pets to survive, they must work together.
Adventure multiplies from here on in. When Bodger rebels momentarily and leads his friends into an Indian campsite—a human interaction the Labrador would rather avoid—the terrier unwittingly inserts himself into a local legend about the White Dog of the Obijways, a tale that suggests the Spirits will send a dog in distress to test the tribe's hospitality. Our trio of travelers welcome any small serendipity that keeps them fed and healthy, for many more miles lie ahead. Crossing a swollen river seems relatively low-risk, but it turns tragic when Tao tumbles in and is swept out of sight. Losing their friend is a sobering reminder that the journey is grueling, and even one of them surviving would be lucky. Grief covers terrier and Labrador like a stifling blanket, but Luath gently urges Bodger to move on and not obsess over Tao's untimely passing.
The Siamese is not dead, however. Unconscious and waterlogged, the cat washes up in view of ten-year-old Helvi Nurmi, daughter of a family that immigrated to the Canadian wilderness from Finland. The Nurmis' austere existence leaves little room for animals that don't contribute tangibly, but Helvi's father, Reino, senses her emotional need for a pet. Tender healing administrations work their miracle on the comatose feline and Tao is snatched back from the grave, though his ability to hear is gone. The Siamese spends a few days in the Nurmi home regaining strength, nurtured by Helvi's affection. When his hearing returns and the cat hits the trail, Helvi blinks back tears and watches him go, refusing to keep the animal against his will. Their time together was a blessing they both needed, brief as it was.
A confident Siamese should have no trouble tracking a pair of dogs he knows well, but Luath faces a calamity of his own before there is opportunity for a reunion. Driven by hunger and curious as to whether a porcupine he sees would make a decent meal, the Labrador is skewered by several of the creature's barbed quills, which lodge in the tender flesh of his face. A nuisance at first, the untreated wound progresses to a life-threatening infection. Meanwhile, the Siamese has a harrowing encounter with a mountain lynx, a cat every bit as savvy as Tao but with superior strength, speed, and familiarity hunting in the mountains. The two predators engage in a game of wits, the lynx stalking the smaller animal as his next meal. Tao is cagey and resourceful, but requires a nearly miraculous intervention for the lynx to be defeated. Long hours of travel remain to catch up with Bodger and Luath, but when the moment comes it couldn't be more joyous, a reunion of road-weary travelers who never expected to enjoy one another's company again. By luck and fortitude they have dodged numerous dangers that could have killed them; might they actually make it the three hundred miles to the Lake Windigo mountain cottage the Hunter family owns?
Upon returning from his hunting trip, John Longridge figures out the miscommunication with Mrs. Oakes and realizes that Bodger, Tao, and Luath left the cabin weeks ago. He surmises they set out west in search of the Hunters, but surely all three are dead by now. No pet could survive the Canadian bush for long. How will he tell Peter and Elizabeth, his godchildren, that their dogs and cat are gone forever? Back on the trail, the Labrador has the good fortune of meeting John Mackenzie, a hunter who recognizes the seriousness of the dog's infected face wound and carefully performs the procedure to extract the quills. Sepsis had spread nearly to the point of irreversibility; Luath would have soon died. Mackenzie and his wife Nell take the dogs into their modest home for some needed care—all three are starving and exhausted—but the Labrador is anxious to resume walking. He doesn't know there are only fifty miles left, but these cut across the Strellon Game Reserve, lands that are more arduous than anything so far, filled with predators. Longridge and the Hunters visit Lake Windigo for a few days on the off chance the animals might show up, but only Elizabeth truly expects they will. The Labrador's return would be a longshot, the Siamese even more so, but old Bodger could never have endured the Strellon Game Reserve...could he? Are Longridge and the Hunters about to witness a miracle that proves the seemingly impossible can happen, that what appears inescapably lost can come back to you after all?
The Incredible Journey offers wisdom and assurance for our own life journeys. When you accept a challenge against staggering odds and achieve success early on, it's easy to start believing the task isn't so hard, that ultimately your triumph is a foregone conclusion. This leads to carelessness, a sure path to destruction. Luath falls into that trap when he isn't cautious with the porcupine; the quills that pierce his face become a reminder that complacency is a death sentence in the Canadian wilderness. A grievous wound suffered because you took success for granted might never go away, and could derail your future. Never assume a happy ending is guaranteed, or you could wind up with a literal or metaphorical face full of quills that add great hardship to your journey. Tao's interlude with Helvi also exudes meaning; the girl and the cat need each other for a time, but a life together is not meant to be. Tao loves Elizabeth Hunter and has gone to astounding lengths to be with her; when the Siamese recovers enough to resume his odyssey, he leaves immediately, and Helvi doesn't intervene despite her heartbreak. Sometimes when we pass a length of time with a dear friend on life's trail, the crucial moment is recognizing when we should part ways so the relationship remains a positive memory. Losing a friend isn't easy, but doing so with grace is the best way to honor what you had.
When they depart Longridge's cabin, Bodger is in no condition for a three hundred mile jaunt across wild frontier. His geriatric body has seen better days, and that's truer than ever after the bear attack; he's more suited to a sedentary lifestyle than that of a hiker. But a transformation occurs as Luath guides him through the mountains. "(D)aily the terrier became stronger; after a week he was lean, but the scars on his shoulders were healing, and his coat was smooth and healthy; in fact, he was in better condition and looked younger and fitter than at the outset of the journey." We may not be physically, mentally, or emotionally prepared at the start of an odyssey we undertake, but just walking the path strengthens us, so we develop the vitality to complete our quest. Don't despair if at first you lack necessary traits; you'll earn them along the way. Deep character and fanatical determination are required to accomplish an "impossible" journey, and Luath possesses these qualities. His yearning for the Hunters is evident before the three pets leave Longridge's cabin; Luath maintains a daily vigil for any sign of his human family, "...listening and listening for the sound that never came: the high, piercing whistle of his master that would have brought him bounding across the world if only his straining ears could hear it." Do the Hunters know how much their young dog wants to be with them? Longridge is a benevolent caretaker, but Luath's heart is with Peter, Elizabeth, and Jim. Once the Labrador leaves on the journey, his dedication is undeterrable: "Only one thing was clear and certain—that at all costs he was going home, home to his own beloved master." Good fortune and physical prowess would never have been adequate to lead a Labrador, a Siamese cat, and an elderly terrier through the Canadian bush to a home hundreds of miles away. The desire in Luath's heart is the only reason this story could happen. Luath, Tao, and Bodger's journey shows that even the ostensibly weak are capable of magnificent things.
This book is a special favorite of mine. Sheila Burnford's storytelling is vast and glorious, though simple enough to be an excellent read-aloud. The communion with nature is a rich, wondrous tapestry depicting how it feels to be alive for the short time we are. Will we stay home and play it safe, or venture into the unknown and risk everything for a life of greater reward? Carl Burger's homey illustrations are a winsome partner to the narrative. I liked the 1963 Disney movie, and loved the 1993 remake (Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey), but the book, too, holds a place in my heart. I'd rate it three and a half stars, and I submit that Sheila Burnford is a lustrous gem among twentieth century children's authors. Her most famous novel is one for the ages.