I stumbled across “The Only Kayak: A Journey into the Heart of Alaska” when I was looking for kayak books at the library. Turns out, this book really isn’t about kayaking. It’s about something much bigger. And it was a real gem of a find
Kim Heacox is an amazing writer who has spent a lot of time in Alaska as a park ranger and environmentalist. At one point, I was afraid he was one of those environmentalists who basically opposes all public uses of public lands for fear humans will destroy them. (With the exception, of course, of people like him who basically would get to have the parks to themselves.) And while he has a wide streak of that in him, he also has a pragmatic side that surfaces early in the book when he boards a cruise ship to talk to the passengers about the Alaskan wilderness.
It’s clear he’s dubious of the cruise ships. And just at it appears he’s about to launch into an diatribe about fat Americans viewing the wilds from a safe distance while they savage dinner buffets, he changes course:
“They (the cruise ship passengers) grew up in the Great Depression and knew the taste of real adversity. Many had read Jack London and dreamed of coming north since childhood. This is it, their dream come true. They were too frail to sleep on the ground or paddle a kayak. Yet their sacrifices gave me freedoms that they themselves would never enjoy.”
Nice. Not that he lets us off the hook. During the kayak trip that launches the book, he and his fellow park ranger, Richard, exchange stories and get to know each other. They talk about America, about our conspicuous consumption. It carves an alarming edge given the economic times we’ve just plowed into like a cruise ship smashing into an iceberg.
“Big cars, big bellies, big egos,” his friend Richard says. “Americans don’t like being told there’s no more of anything.”
And Heacox can turn a phrase:
“A minute later, a man approach, thin as a stalk of wheat, with cornstarch hair and large, expressive eyes that drank up his face.”
Pick this book up. It’s a wonderful meditation on America, the wilderness and, well, kayaking.
One last quote from the book:
“Whenever I saw a bumper sticker that said PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN, I thought … better to be grateful to be an American. Pride is a high horse to fall from.”
Amen.
I took advantage of perfect weather yesterday to take the kayak out for a paddle. The water was up, muddy and full of debris from the rain we’ve had for the past several days. I saw a lot of bass boats buzzing around like angry hornets as I paddled upstream on Lake Loudon toward the entrance to Prater Flats.