Escape Into Words About The Wilds: A Reading List For Rugged Retreats, Camps, Travels, and Inspired Adventures (with Beverage Pairings)
By Matty K.
September 8th, 2022
A quick note: while I have attempted to include helpful links to most referenced texts, drinks, and tools for reference purposes, please, whenever possible, shop at your local bookstores, co-ops, and outfitters.
The Original How-To Texts
Woodcraft by George W. Sears
Legacy Edition) (Library of American Outdoors Classics)
George W. Sears went by the trail name Nessmuk, a name still used to describe his design for a unique and incredibly timeless bushcraft knife. In the late nineteenth century, eager to get out of the city and the illnesses it was causing Sears and people like him, the man gathered tips and tricks for successful backcountry travel from those who knew. He got himself a canoe, and escaped to the Adirondacks. Those tips and tricks, along with his own brilliant discoveries and improvements became this incredibly readable how-to manual, among the very first of its kind to be published.
"We do not go out to the woods to rough it; we go to smooth it - we get it rough enough in town. But let us live the simple, natural life in the woods, and leave all frills behind." -Nessmuk
This text is best enjoyed on a porch, ideally in a rocking chair. Dress in boots and rugged field clothing, a good, non-ironic hat is key. Light a candle, even if reading by day. A low, wide mouthed, rocks glass with no ice, and a stiff pour of smokey scotch is ideal.
When I sit back with my hardcover edition, while the sun is setting, I light a traditional oil lamp, then I pour three fingers of Laphroaig Lore Single Malt Whiskey into my favorite glass while the birds sing their night songs, and I read Nessmuk’s brilliant words.
Legacy Edition) (Library of American Outdoors Classics)
George W. Sears went by the trail name Nessmuk, a name still used to describe his design for a unique and incredibly timeless bushcraft knife. In the late nineteenth century, eager to get out of the city and the illnesses it was causing Sears and people like him, the man gathered tips and tricks for successful backcountry travel from those who knew. He got himself a canoe, and escaped to the Adirondacks. Those tips and tricks, along with his own brilliant discoveries and improvements became this incredibly readable how-to manual, among the very first of its kind to be published.
"We do not go out to the woods to rough it; we go to smooth it - we get it rough enough in town. But let us live the simple, natural life in the woods, and leave all frills behind." -Nessmuk
This text is best enjoyed on a porch, ideally in a rocking chair. Dress in boots and rugged field clothing, a good, non-ironic hat is key. Light a candle, even if reading by day. A low, wide mouthed, rocks glass with no ice, and a stiff pour of smokey scotch is ideal.
When I sit back with my hardcover edition, while the sun is setting, I light a traditional oil lamp, then I pour three fingers of Laphroaig Lore Single Malt Whiskey into my favorite glass while the birds sing their night songs, and I read Nessmuk’s brilliant words.
The Book Of Camping And Woodcraft (Legacy Edition): A Guidebook For Those Who Travel In The Wilderness (Library of American Outdoors Classics) by Horace Kephart
Horace Kephart was a Yale librarian and worked in the employ of a wealthy book collector in Italy for a time. When his wife left him, he turned his attentions to a topographical map of the area that is now the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He found a space that was remote and far from everything and there he went. From 1904 to 1931 Kephart wrote about living in Appalachia, hunting, camp cooking, wilderness craft, and more. This legacy edition is a must read, not only for its practical information, but as a too uncommon example of the wild intellectual, the highly educated thinker, who turns their natural gifts of analysis and problem solving to the wonders of wild places.
“I took a topographic map and picked out on it, by means of the contour lines and the blank space showing no settlement, what seemed to be the wildest part of these regions; and there I went.” -Kephart
One among the many ways that I am fortunate is the acquaintance I made with the director of a local poetry group. She is a published poet and gifted lecturer on the written word. Her past, however, includes advanced degrees, and a distinguished career, in chemistry and molecular biology in North Carolina. To the White Mountains she was drawn by the scenery and the opportunity to focus on poetry. With her she brought a sophisticated laboratory complete with glass tubes and precision heaters. After I gave a reading of a poem by Robert Frost at one of her events, I was handed a one-pint Ball jar of her exquisite blueberry corn whiskey. Its clarity was so perfect I thought she was pulling my leg about it being “moonshine.” That evening I sipped the first quarter of that pint, straight from the jar, seated by my fire pit, still in my reading-for-the-public outfit, and became awash in the first several chapters from Kephart’s seminal work, The Book Of Camping and Woodcraft. Should you not have a Moonshiner in your social circle, I have heard good things about the traditional integrity maintained by Troy and Sons Platinum Moonshine.
Horace Kephart was a Yale librarian and worked in the employ of a wealthy book collector in Italy for a time. When his wife left him, he turned his attentions to a topographical map of the area that is now the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He found a space that was remote and far from everything and there he went. From 1904 to 1931 Kephart wrote about living in Appalachia, hunting, camp cooking, wilderness craft, and more. This legacy edition is a must read, not only for its practical information, but as a too uncommon example of the wild intellectual, the highly educated thinker, who turns their natural gifts of analysis and problem solving to the wonders of wild places.
“I took a topographic map and picked out on it, by means of the contour lines and the blank space showing no settlement, what seemed to be the wildest part of these regions; and there I went.” -Kephart
One among the many ways that I am fortunate is the acquaintance I made with the director of a local poetry group. She is a published poet and gifted lecturer on the written word. Her past, however, includes advanced degrees, and a distinguished career, in chemistry and molecular biology in North Carolina. To the White Mountains she was drawn by the scenery and the opportunity to focus on poetry. With her she brought a sophisticated laboratory complete with glass tubes and precision heaters. After I gave a reading of a poem by Robert Frost at one of her events, I was handed a one-pint Ball jar of her exquisite blueberry corn whiskey. Its clarity was so perfect I thought she was pulling my leg about it being “moonshine.” That evening I sipped the first quarter of that pint, straight from the jar, seated by my fire pit, still in my reading-for-the-public outfit, and became awash in the first several chapters from Kephart’s seminal work, The Book Of Camping and Woodcraft. Should you not have a Moonshiner in your social circle, I have heard good things about the traditional integrity maintained by Troy and Sons Platinum Moonshine.
Memoir
One Man's Wilderness, 50th Anniversary Edition: An Alaskan Odyssey by Richard Louis Proenneke
Dick Proenneke (pronounced Pren-e-key) did what so many dare to even dream of attempting, and some die pursuing: he went into the wilderness, built a home, and made a life there. Not only does he tell his story in beautifully accessible language, but reading his words feels more like a kind uncle chatting about his life than it does a wilderness expert conveying his hard learned lessons. The winters, the resupplies, the garden, fresh fish breakfasts, and a contentious wolverine all come across like the most casual conversations. This book becomes difficult to put down.
Full disclosure, I was actually introduced to Dick Proenneke and his One Man’s Wilderness via the DVD, Alone in the Wilderness. I was finishing my undergrad in psychology in Vermont. I ripped through my program and was slated to complete my degree earlier than anticipated. A friend of mine, a local, not a college kid (I quickly became embittered with the college kids with whom I attended school), this guy introduced me to the Green Mountains and acquainted me with some of the local woodsmen. He loaned me a copy of the DVD.
I was living in my van almost full time at that point. My laptop ran off a power inverter plugged into the cigarette lighter. I opened the big sliding door on the side of my vehicle, the van being oriented so I faced out onto a sort of wetlands behind one of the outbuildings to the rear of the campus parking areas. While the peepers peeped, I watched the documentary with my feet hanging out over the water and the cattail shoots. Two years later, with a bachelor’s degree in psychology, I wrote a graduate program that would allow me to focus on an in-depth study of Wilderness Literature and submitted it to schools in the mountain west and desert southwest of these United States. College is a haze, but I believe on that life altering evening I was sipping Jameson Whiskey from a cracked coffee mug with a faded Image Comics logo on it.
Dick Proenneke (pronounced Pren-e-key) did what so many dare to even dream of attempting, and some die pursuing: he went into the wilderness, built a home, and made a life there. Not only does he tell his story in beautifully accessible language, but reading his words feels more like a kind uncle chatting about his life than it does a wilderness expert conveying his hard learned lessons. The winters, the resupplies, the garden, fresh fish breakfasts, and a contentious wolverine all come across like the most casual conversations. This book becomes difficult to put down.
Full disclosure, I was actually introduced to Dick Proenneke and his One Man’s Wilderness via the DVD, Alone in the Wilderness. I was finishing my undergrad in psychology in Vermont. I ripped through my program and was slated to complete my degree earlier than anticipated. A friend of mine, a local, not a college kid (I quickly became embittered with the college kids with whom I attended school), this guy introduced me to the Green Mountains and acquainted me with some of the local woodsmen. He loaned me a copy of the DVD.
I was living in my van almost full time at that point. My laptop ran off a power inverter plugged into the cigarette lighter. I opened the big sliding door on the side of my vehicle, the van being oriented so I faced out onto a sort of wetlands behind one of the outbuildings to the rear of the campus parking areas. While the peepers peeped, I watched the documentary with my feet hanging out over the water and the cattail shoots. Two years later, with a bachelor’s degree in psychology, I wrote a graduate program that would allow me to focus on an in-depth study of Wilderness Literature and submitted it to schools in the mountain west and desert southwest of these United States. College is a haze, but I believe on that life altering evening I was sipping Jameson Whiskey from a cracked coffee mug with a faded Image Comics logo on it.
My First Summer in the Sierra (Dover Books on Americana) by John Muir
John Muir has long been my hero. So many of us feel this way, I know. Muir was a genius, even as a child. He was a tinkerer, a wanderer, he had religion forced upon him, under threat of violence, having been compelled to memorize all of the New Testament and most of the Old Testament before completing his teen years. Muir was a survivor. The ability to question tradition, long maintained beliefs, then fighting and writing to preserve the things that mattered most to him and to humanity, this heroism alone makes Muir a must read. His entire catalogue is excellent, My First Summer is a good entry to the work of this great, brilliant, enigma.
While Muir was a teetotaler, he once said, in a reference to his favorite beverage, “Who has not felt the urge to throw a loaf of bread and a pound of tea in an old sack and jump over the back fence?” In this way I suggest a twist on the Hot Toddy: brew dark black tea, stir in good, local honey, top with brown liquor, good Irish or Scotch is best I find, finish with a twist of fresh lemon. Sipping this cocktail (or dipping hunks of thick, brown bread into it for a nice accompanying snack) from a metal cup (or the pot from your Jetboil stove), feet buried in your sleeping bag, head propped up on your pack, and your tent fly pulled back to let in the twilight, is a favorite autumn tradition of mine.
John Muir has long been my hero. So many of us feel this way, I know. Muir was a genius, even as a child. He was a tinkerer, a wanderer, he had religion forced upon him, under threat of violence, having been compelled to memorize all of the New Testament and most of the Old Testament before completing his teen years. Muir was a survivor. The ability to question tradition, long maintained beliefs, then fighting and writing to preserve the things that mattered most to him and to humanity, this heroism alone makes Muir a must read. His entire catalogue is excellent, My First Summer is a good entry to the work of this great, brilliant, enigma.
While Muir was a teetotaler, he once said, in a reference to his favorite beverage, “Who has not felt the urge to throw a loaf of bread and a pound of tea in an old sack and jump over the back fence?” In this way I suggest a twist on the Hot Toddy: brew dark black tea, stir in good, local honey, top with brown liquor, good Irish or Scotch is best I find, finish with a twist of fresh lemon. Sipping this cocktail (or dipping hunks of thick, brown bread into it for a nice accompanying snack) from a metal cup (or the pot from your Jetboil stove), feet buried in your sleeping bag, head propped up on your pack, and your tent fly pulled back to let in the twilight, is a favorite autumn tradition of mine.
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey
While Monkey Wrench Gang is almost required reading for those of the outdoorsy ilk, Desert Solitaire is more conducive to deep thoughts and long pulls on a tasty beverage. Edward Abbey can be described as poetic, irascible, reclusive, and deep as the canyons of the desert southwest. I mostly dive back into the works of Abbey when I feel I can benefit from alone time…
“So I lived alone. The first thing I did was take off my pants. Naturally.”― Edward Abbey
The best thing to do is to don a cowboy hat (any wide brimmed hat will do for this exercise). Tie an old bandana around your neck, take up Desert Solitaire in one hand, a short pour of something distilled from agave in the other, and nothing else. Stand before a stone, a pool of water, or a tall tree. Now listen to the quiet. In this way, armed with these tools, you will be able to best heed the advice contained within another quote attributed to Abbey, “A drink a day keeps the shrink away.”
While Monkey Wrench Gang is almost required reading for those of the outdoorsy ilk, Desert Solitaire is more conducive to deep thoughts and long pulls on a tasty beverage. Edward Abbey can be described as poetic, irascible, reclusive, and deep as the canyons of the desert southwest. I mostly dive back into the works of Abbey when I feel I can benefit from alone time…
“So I lived alone. The first thing I did was take off my pants. Naturally.”― Edward Abbey
The best thing to do is to don a cowboy hat (any wide brimmed hat will do for this exercise). Tie an old bandana around your neck, take up Desert Solitaire in one hand, a short pour of something distilled from agave in the other, and nothing else. Stand before a stone, a pool of water, or a tall tree. Now listen to the quiet. In this way, armed with these tools, you will be able to best heed the advice contained within another quote attributed to Abbey, “A drink a day keeps the shrink away.”
Non-Fiction
Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
This was the first book I ever read from cover to cover in one sitting. Krakauer wrote this book so intelligently, it is common for a copy to come along on a trip into any backcountry, only to be surgically ripped in half, in order that two people might enjoy reading it at once. This is not to say that the fate that befell Chris McCandless was a good one. Death in the woods is tragic for the fallen and for the family. Simultaneously, myself and many avid wanderers like me have pointed out how foolish and arrogant many of Krakauer’s subject’s decisions were from the get-go. You’ll have to dive into this one for the first time or again to form and hone your own opinion.
I suggest that while you devour this seminal outdoors text, you do so while sipping a White Russian. In the book, Wayne Westerberg, a friend, and former employer of McCandless, describes hilarity, piano crooning, and brilliance from the wanderer who would self-apply the sobriquet, Alexander Supertramp as he traversed places both remote and urban. During these raucous evenings with Wayne, in a pub in the Dakotas, where beer with a shot of Jack were most likely the most common requests of the bartender, McCandless ordered a sweet drink thick with milk. Perhaps this is a metaphor for his character, one who seeks the fat and the sweet from life. White Russians are made with vodka, one of the more passive booze flavors that can result in joviality and revelry when consumed with a sugary stimulant. -let this be one of the discussions inspired by this book, along with the multitudes available within to the informed reader. I suggest you enjoy this one and a White Russian with well-read friends.
This was the first book I ever read from cover to cover in one sitting. Krakauer wrote this book so intelligently, it is common for a copy to come along on a trip into any backcountry, only to be surgically ripped in half, in order that two people might enjoy reading it at once. This is not to say that the fate that befell Chris McCandless was a good one. Death in the woods is tragic for the fallen and for the family. Simultaneously, myself and many avid wanderers like me have pointed out how foolish and arrogant many of Krakauer’s subject’s decisions were from the get-go. You’ll have to dive into this one for the first time or again to form and hone your own opinion.
I suggest that while you devour this seminal outdoors text, you do so while sipping a White Russian. In the book, Wayne Westerberg, a friend, and former employer of McCandless, describes hilarity, piano crooning, and brilliance from the wanderer who would self-apply the sobriquet, Alexander Supertramp as he traversed places both remote and urban. During these raucous evenings with Wayne, in a pub in the Dakotas, where beer with a shot of Jack were most likely the most common requests of the bartender, McCandless ordered a sweet drink thick with milk. Perhaps this is a metaphor for his character, one who seeks the fat and the sweet from life. White Russians are made with vodka, one of the more passive booze flavors that can result in joviality and revelry when consumed with a sugary stimulant. -let this be one of the discussions inspired by this book, along with the multitudes available within to the informed reader. I suggest you enjoy this one and a White Russian with well-read friends.
The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit by Michael Finkel
I implore you to read this one in a contemplative state of mind, while alone, preferably in a wild place. The idea of hermit, of recluse, of retreating from society more often than not summons references to Walden Pond, or the above-mentioned Chris McCandless, perhaps even less self-imposed examples from literature like Robinson Crusoe. The reality is that true hermits, even historically speaking, rarely achieved self-sufficiency, or complete aloneness, at least not for very long. One of my favorite characters from history is the Leatherman. Only one comprehensive text about this wandering mystery exists to my knowledge and it is more of a collection of first-hand accounts and primary source materials than a beach read, so it did not make this list. However, the story of Christopher Knight, as told by Michael Finkel, is a riveting look at what the life of a Hermit is actually like.
Readers will adore or abhor Knight, depending on your moral flexibility and their identification with his decisions and intentions. As a lover of struggles, both my own and those of others, I empathized with Knight completely. I was able to apply the descriptions in this book to my readings of exploration, post-apocalyptic literature, vagabonding in my youth, and to my own frequent cravings to be left alone for long stints, uninterrupted, free to be completely self-indulgent.
“Modern life seems set up so that we can avoid loneliness at all costs, but maybe it’s worthwhile to face it occasionally. The further we push aloneness away, the less are we able to cope with it, and the more terrifying it gets.”
― Michael Finkel
This one comes with no beverage pairing from me. Instead, I suggest the reader choose time in the company of others, or time alone, read this book closely, and delight in cool clear water, or a martini, perhaps light beer, whatever you think you might turn to in a moment alone, indulging your whim, immersed in the simple pleasure of temporary, pursued isolation.
I implore you to read this one in a contemplative state of mind, while alone, preferably in a wild place. The idea of hermit, of recluse, of retreating from society more often than not summons references to Walden Pond, or the above-mentioned Chris McCandless, perhaps even less self-imposed examples from literature like Robinson Crusoe. The reality is that true hermits, even historically speaking, rarely achieved self-sufficiency, or complete aloneness, at least not for very long. One of my favorite characters from history is the Leatherman. Only one comprehensive text about this wandering mystery exists to my knowledge and it is more of a collection of first-hand accounts and primary source materials than a beach read, so it did not make this list. However, the story of Christopher Knight, as told by Michael Finkel, is a riveting look at what the life of a Hermit is actually like.
Readers will adore or abhor Knight, depending on your moral flexibility and their identification with his decisions and intentions. As a lover of struggles, both my own and those of others, I empathized with Knight completely. I was able to apply the descriptions in this book to my readings of exploration, post-apocalyptic literature, vagabonding in my youth, and to my own frequent cravings to be left alone for long stints, uninterrupted, free to be completely self-indulgent.
“Modern life seems set up so that we can avoid loneliness at all costs, but maybe it’s worthwhile to face it occasionally. The further we push aloneness away, the less are we able to cope with it, and the more terrifying it gets.”
― Michael Finkel
This one comes with no beverage pairing from me. Instead, I suggest the reader choose time in the company of others, or time alone, read this book closely, and delight in cool clear water, or a martini, perhaps light beer, whatever you think you might turn to in a moment alone, indulging your whim, immersed in the simple pleasure of temporary, pursued isolation.
Wilderness and the American Mind (Fifth Edition) by Roderick Frazier Nash
Here, I will be brief. Read this book. Listen to it on the way to and from work. Take this on vacation, on every vacation. Read this book in its fifth edition for school, to your kids, in bed, during lunch breaks, on camping trips, when and where-ever, but read it.
What Nash did back in the sixties was not completely unique to him. The idea of wilderness was already becoming more complex than simply describing a location in some state of wildness. The American mind was struggling with all kinds of challenges and reconfigured perspectives as the sixties turned into the seventies. Nash himself will say that his book, unarguably a great classic, benefitted from being published at the right time. This is true but diminishes the text’s importance not at all. Especially now, this book is crucial reading for those among us with any intention at all of discussing the wilds. Camp counselors, gear shop employees, guides, weekend warriors, thru-hikers, and armchair survivalists must all read this book and be determined to understand it.
This text was a pillar of my entire master’s degree program at Prescott College in Wilderness Literature. At that time Irish Coffee was my thing, very strong coffee, very Irish. I lived in an octagonal cabin, I cooked on a wood burning stove, my water came from a cistern on the hill. Once every year my studies were interrupted by a curious roadrunner. I took breaks to watch the rattlesnake migration through the high desert ranch where my little rental in the woods was situated. This book changed me from one who loves the wilderness to one who can claim to understand it.
Here, I will be brief. Read this book. Listen to it on the way to and from work. Take this on vacation, on every vacation. Read this book in its fifth edition for school, to your kids, in bed, during lunch breaks, on camping trips, when and where-ever, but read it.
What Nash did back in the sixties was not completely unique to him. The idea of wilderness was already becoming more complex than simply describing a location in some state of wildness. The American mind was struggling with all kinds of challenges and reconfigured perspectives as the sixties turned into the seventies. Nash himself will say that his book, unarguably a great classic, benefitted from being published at the right time. This is true but diminishes the text’s importance not at all. Especially now, this book is crucial reading for those among us with any intention at all of discussing the wilds. Camp counselors, gear shop employees, guides, weekend warriors, thru-hikers, and armchair survivalists must all read this book and be determined to understand it.
This text was a pillar of my entire master’s degree program at Prescott College in Wilderness Literature. At that time Irish Coffee was my thing, very strong coffee, very Irish. I lived in an octagonal cabin, I cooked on a wood burning stove, my water came from a cistern on the hill. Once every year my studies were interrupted by a curious roadrunner. I took breaks to watch the rattlesnake migration through the high desert ranch where my little rental in the woods was situated. This book changed me from one who loves the wilderness to one who can claim to understand it.
Seafaring: A Different Wilderness
In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex by Nathaniel Philbrick
I’ve summited I don’t know how many mountains. I’ve even been lucky enough to have crossed whole mountain ranges on foot. I have paddled rivers. I have biked across deserts. But, I have never even considered crossing an ocean. When I think of oceans my mind swings my thoughts toward beaches. Those sandy strands of terra-firma-security with piers that safely reach out to the sea while anchoring us to shore. There are doubtlessly some among you who are avid sailors or even oceanic explorers of some kind or another. You have probably read this story. For the rest, dive into the wildness of the ocean with Philbrick’s tremendous retelling of the Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex. Then, as soon as you’re finished, pick up Moby Dick for the first time or again.
I feel like it is far too on the nose to suggest that you pair this one with a rum drink. However, as this story is so gut-wrenching in parts, and sailors from New England, as with New England frontiersman from generations before, tended to enjoy their rum, we will go with it. (Yes, I know that the Essex sailed from nineteenth century Nantucket where perhaps many among the inhabitants did not drink at all.)
When it comes to rum, you may stick to what is known, basic rum, ginger beer, and lime. You may discard the mixers completely and simply destroy your palate with a rum and Coke. For me, however, when my feet are sandy and I’m feeling that tingle in my boozy sweet tooth, there is nothing better than Sailor Jerry’s, lots of rocks, and three dashes of Campfire Bitters.
I’ve summited I don’t know how many mountains. I’ve even been lucky enough to have crossed whole mountain ranges on foot. I have paddled rivers. I have biked across deserts. But, I have never even considered crossing an ocean. When I think of oceans my mind swings my thoughts toward beaches. Those sandy strands of terra-firma-security with piers that safely reach out to the sea while anchoring us to shore. There are doubtlessly some among you who are avid sailors or even oceanic explorers of some kind or another. You have probably read this story. For the rest, dive into the wildness of the ocean with Philbrick’s tremendous retelling of the Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex. Then, as soon as you’re finished, pick up Moby Dick for the first time or again.
I feel like it is far too on the nose to suggest that you pair this one with a rum drink. However, as this story is so gut-wrenching in parts, and sailors from New England, as with New England frontiersman from generations before, tended to enjoy their rum, we will go with it. (Yes, I know that the Essex sailed from nineteenth century Nantucket where perhaps many among the inhabitants did not drink at all.)
When it comes to rum, you may stick to what is known, basic rum, ginger beer, and lime. You may discard the mixers completely and simply destroy your palate with a rum and Coke. For me, however, when my feet are sandy and I’m feeling that tingle in my boozy sweet tooth, there is nothing better than Sailor Jerry’s, lots of rocks, and three dashes of Campfire Bitters.
Endurance by Alfred Lansing
If you’ve read my list this far than you have probably heard of Earnest Shackleton. Indeed, you may have already read Endurance. John Muir and Earnest Shackleton have long been two of my greatest inspirations. Muir for his deep look into himself and his surroundings, his contentment with time alone in contemplation, and his ability to see nature for what it is. Shackleton became a central figure in my psyche for his ability to inspire others, to harness a level of determination few are capable of, and to run with it no matter what is said about him. Shackleton’s leadership is what inspires me daily, in good times and bad. There is a duality here. Muir is my introversion, my escapism. Shackleton is my extroversion, my inclination to (hopefully) entertain and, when at my best, inspire.
Endurance was the name given to Shackleton’s ship, formerly Polaris, on his journey to the south pole. The name came from his family motto, “Fortitudine Vincimus”, “By Endurance We Conquer.” And through Endurance he did conquer, but arguably it was not the wilderness, the pole, or the sea that were overcome, those are powers larger than most humans can conceive, let alone get the better of. No, what he conquered was doubt, discouragement, negativity, and the too frequent human urge to quit.
While cocaine, weed, and whisky sound like the fuel for rockstars to trash hotel rooms, they were also some key ingredients from the classic arctic explorer’s first aid kit. But we need look no further for a beverage to pair with this reading than our fearless leader’s namesake bottle, Shackleton Blended Malt, inspired by Earnest Shackleton’s supposed love of Mackinlay’s Scotch whisky.
If you’ve read my list this far than you have probably heard of Earnest Shackleton. Indeed, you may have already read Endurance. John Muir and Earnest Shackleton have long been two of my greatest inspirations. Muir for his deep look into himself and his surroundings, his contentment with time alone in contemplation, and his ability to see nature for what it is. Shackleton became a central figure in my psyche for his ability to inspire others, to harness a level of determination few are capable of, and to run with it no matter what is said about him. Shackleton’s leadership is what inspires me daily, in good times and bad. There is a duality here. Muir is my introversion, my escapism. Shackleton is my extroversion, my inclination to (hopefully) entertain and, when at my best, inspire.
Endurance was the name given to Shackleton’s ship, formerly Polaris, on his journey to the south pole. The name came from his family motto, “Fortitudine Vincimus”, “By Endurance We Conquer.” And through Endurance he did conquer, but arguably it was not the wilderness, the pole, or the sea that were overcome, those are powers larger than most humans can conceive, let alone get the better of. No, what he conquered was doubt, discouragement, negativity, and the too frequent human urge to quit.
While cocaine, weed, and whisky sound like the fuel for rockstars to trash hotel rooms, they were also some key ingredients from the classic arctic explorer’s first aid kit. But we need look no further for a beverage to pair with this reading than our fearless leader’s namesake bottle, Shackleton Blended Malt, inspired by Earnest Shackleton’s supposed love of Mackinlay’s Scotch whisky.
Getting Started
The Call of the Wild/White Fang/To Build a Fire by Jack London
“The trouble with him was that he was without imagination.”
― Jack London
Among the first words I ever read by Jack London were these words above from To Build a Fire. Of course, I’d read and re-read The Call Of The Wild, a children’s edition, over and over in my bed as a child by flashlight. I didn’t know Jack London from Norton Juster back then, only that sometimes I read the book with the dog on the cover and sometimes I read the book with the dog and the boy on the cover. So was my library and my inclinations as a child. As I grew and learned and continued my frequent retreat into books, I formed context around Jack London stories, mostly that they often involved snow and dogs, two things that to this day mean a lot to me. Then some aunt or elementary school teacher perhaps suggested that I read To Build A Fire. Whoever it was who exposed me to that story formed the earliest awakenings of the adventurer scribbling these words for you today.
When writing about the great works of Jack London, especially when in the context of book and booze pairings, one would be remiss without referencing the Sourtoe Cocktail. The saying goes, “You can drink it fast, you can drink it slow, but your lips must touch the gnarly toe.” The Sourtoe, in this case, is the amputated toe of a rum-runner, who during prohibition, stepped through ice and froze his foot. The toe was amputated and stored in a jar of alcohol. In the seventies, the story claims, the toe was found in an old cabin and used to start an exclusive club with one rule for joining: lips touching gnarly toe. -Yukon Jack and an amputated toe from the twenties, both sound unappealing to me.
A preferred cocktail for my tastes is the simple Gold Rush Cocktail: bourbon, honey syrup, lemon. This cocktail was likely invented at the famed, Milk and Honey, in Manhattan, a bar famous for ushering in the era of the cocktail. Whereas the Whiskey Sour involves simple syrup and egg whites, the Gold Rush is simpler, offers a better mouth feel, and is excellent when served after any kind of snow sport you can imagine. When you break out your Highball Shaker at the next Après party and mix up a batch of Gold Rush Cocktails before retiring to your cabin to tuck into some classic Jack London, you will have etched yourself forever into the memories of all those in your midst as a person not at all without imagination.
“The trouble with him was that he was without imagination.”
― Jack London
Among the first words I ever read by Jack London were these words above from To Build a Fire. Of course, I’d read and re-read The Call Of The Wild, a children’s edition, over and over in my bed as a child by flashlight. I didn’t know Jack London from Norton Juster back then, only that sometimes I read the book with the dog on the cover and sometimes I read the book with the dog and the boy on the cover. So was my library and my inclinations as a child. As I grew and learned and continued my frequent retreat into books, I formed context around Jack London stories, mostly that they often involved snow and dogs, two things that to this day mean a lot to me. Then some aunt or elementary school teacher perhaps suggested that I read To Build A Fire. Whoever it was who exposed me to that story formed the earliest awakenings of the adventurer scribbling these words for you today.
When writing about the great works of Jack London, especially when in the context of book and booze pairings, one would be remiss without referencing the Sourtoe Cocktail. The saying goes, “You can drink it fast, you can drink it slow, but your lips must touch the gnarly toe.” The Sourtoe, in this case, is the amputated toe of a rum-runner, who during prohibition, stepped through ice and froze his foot. The toe was amputated and stored in a jar of alcohol. In the seventies, the story claims, the toe was found in an old cabin and used to start an exclusive club with one rule for joining: lips touching gnarly toe. -Yukon Jack and an amputated toe from the twenties, both sound unappealing to me.
A preferred cocktail for my tastes is the simple Gold Rush Cocktail: bourbon, honey syrup, lemon. This cocktail was likely invented at the famed, Milk and Honey, in Manhattan, a bar famous for ushering in the era of the cocktail. Whereas the Whiskey Sour involves simple syrup and egg whites, the Gold Rush is simpler, offers a better mouth feel, and is excellent when served after any kind of snow sport you can imagine. When you break out your Highball Shaker at the next Après party and mix up a batch of Gold Rush Cocktails before retiring to your cabin to tuck into some classic Jack London, you will have etched yourself forever into the memories of all those in your midst as a person not at all without imagination.
My Side of the Mountain (Puffin Modern Classics) by Jean Craighead George
If you haven’t read this classic, no matter your age or reading history, get into this one right away! I have an eerie absence of memories surrounding when I first encountered this story. Sometimes I wonder if I may have just always known the story of Sam and Frightful, the escape from the noise and congestion of urban confines, and the sweet challenges and isolation of the mountains. The theme of isolation in this book is as off-putting to some as it is inspiring to others. Sam feels loneliness and Jean Craighead George describes these feelings well. But Sam also feels the elation of self-reliance, and while George doesn’t write these separate feelings in diametric opposition, readers who have experienced both will feel how the presence of the latter relieves the feelings of the former.
If you’re looking for a coming-of-age novel, go read about Holden Caulfield. If you’re looking for a survival story, Hatchet, by Gary Paulsen, is fantastic (and really should have been on this list now that I think about it). But if you’re seeking escapist reading, containing themes of the escapist mentality, and undertones of back to the land thinking, and how sometimes cleverness is more important than smarts, this is the one for you.
There are two types of adventure readers, those who while reading Dharma Bums, by Jack Kerouac, become fixated on the scene depicting the famous poetry reading at the Six Gallery in 1955, and there are those who revel in Ray’s (Kerouac’s) alone time on the beach swigging wine and eating hotdogs, ‘Well, Ray,’ sez I, glad, ‘only a few miles to go. You’ve done it again.’ Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that’s the way to live.” Those in their swim shorts, all alone with Ray, will enjoy the self-conscious and self-realizing moments on the silent mountain with Sam, “I could hear the voices of the other people. They filled my silent mountain.”
While you decide which you are, extrovert or introvert, observer or the observed, character devotee or recipient of setting, try Sap House Meadery’s, Traditional Mead with your reading. Slightly chilled, preferably by the night air, poured from a High Camp Firelight 375 and sipped from a six-hooter tumbler, my feet in the lake, my eyes on the sky, and a book resting in my lap is my favorite way to sip and read on a canoe trip—and I rarely go paddling without a water stained and dogeared copy of George’s, My Side Of The Mountain.