12 Books Like Arctic Traverse

I live near the Grand Canyon, and have traveled lots of miles in her beauty. But this book took me to a whole other world. The writing is exceptional. He shares the stupid decisions they made, as well as the successes. It's a book of integrity about what happens in the back country, especially if you're not prepared.

It’s another amazing book from Sy Montgomery (read Soul of an Octopus). Most of us like turtles, but after reading this book you’ll never look at a turtle the same way again, and you’ll love them.

As always, Montgomery deep dives into her subject, this time the world of turtles - some of which can live to more than a hundred years: the underworld of poached and smuggled turtles, how turtles can miraculously heal when helped, how some people devote their lives to saving and doctoring and rehabbing and re-releasing turtles.

And after you finish the book, if you’re like me, you’ll look up the long-lived snapping turtle Fire Chief to see where he ended up.

Having climbed North America’s highest peak 3 times, Denali’s Howl describes a horrific situation on a mountain I’m all too familiar with.

The weather patterns, distance, and size of Denali make it an unforgiving peak to climb. I couldn’t put this book down as Hall recounted the dire scenario the climbers went through resulting in tragedy.

I know this book’s journalist co-author, so I may be a bit biased. But I’ve also had scary grizzly encounters—many during my arctic traverse—and few books capture the terror as does this account of a twenty-five-year-old blinded permanently in a bear attack.

Dan Bigley had not embarked on a grand adventure; he was on a trail through the woods, returning from a day of salmon fishing. Like me, Dan used to take troubled kids into the outdoors, so I easily identify with him. His true adventure, and true courage, shows in how he mended his life and even gave it new meaning.

After five reconstructive surgeries, he reconnected with a woman he’d fallen for just before the trauma and resumed his role as a caring member of his community.  

I love a writer who is willing to put his life at risk to solve a mystery. And I love history and biography. The mystery? What happened to Glen and Bessie Hyde, a young couple who vanished on their honeymoon while trying to run the length of the canyon in 1928 in a scow—a boat that looked like a water trough.

Dimock, a Grand Canyon guide and builder of wooden dories, researched this type of craft and, together with his wife, braved the rapids because he thought this would provide clues about the disappearance. Having rowed unwieldy baggage boats in the canyon myself, I emphasized with their plight, and the story of the honeymooners is one guides often tell the clients sitting in camp chairs in the after-dinner circle.  

I’ve read several books about the Powell expedition down the Colorado River and through the Grand Canyon, and this is my favorite. Dolnick brings in the journal writings (mercifully without the poor spelling that they must contain) of other members of the expedition, and this gives a more nuanced account of the events than just reading Powell’s after-the-fact narrative from his own sparse notes. Lots of grumbling going on. A lot of these journal quotes sound like vintage Mark Twain, e.g., “We broke many oars and most of the Ten Commandments.” Dolnick’s discussions of the geology are good, and he doesn’t pad the book with extensive repetition of material from other sources.

For five months, the wildlife biologist and his filmmaker wife, on skis and on foot, shadowed the Porcupine caribou herd’s spring migration from boreal forest wintering grounds to their nursery on Alaska’s tussock-studded tundra—“North America’s Serengeti,” or, to the Gwich’in Indians, who depend on the animals for subsistence and spiritual nourishment, “The Place Where Life Begins.”

The couple’s journey impresses me as a long-distance feat, and with its poetic rendering, but foremost with its conservation angle. They raised awareness of fossil fuel extraction that threatens lifeways, both the Gwich’in’s and the caribou’s; after their trip, they ventured to Washington D.C. to lobby for the wildlife refuge’s protection.

The book’s highlight for me is the couple tentbound, whispering—out of consideration—amidst thousands of birthing caribou cows.

Hoping to gain perspective on his troubled marriage, the deaths of friends, and the vagaries of middle age, charter-boat captain Lynn Schooler commits to a walkabout along the “Lost Coast,” one of Southeast Alaska’s wildest stretches.

What begins as a voyage of introspection soon becomes a grueling march—through pelting rain, jungle-like brush, and ankle-busting boulder fields—that climaxes in a long face-off with a rogue bear and the terrifying crossing of a meltwater torrent.

Just getting to this trail-less wilderness in Glacier Bay National Park tests Schooler's mettle; waves pound his small vessel, and boat-swallowing currents threaten his entry into Lituya Bay. On my Brooks Range traverse, I too was moving steadily toward home (in my case, Nome) a knowledge that powered each step and oar stroke.

I love this beautifully-told story with its bold message about believing in yourself and the power of forgiveness. This native Alaskan legend tells of two old women from long ago. When the tribe faces severe famine during a dangerously cold winter, they abandon the two old “useless” women with no food, leaving them to starve.

Now, the two old women must learn to believe in themselves and fight the elements to survive. They remember forgotten wisdom from their youth–how to make snares and find fish under the ice. They not only survive, but thrive. But once they do, their ultimate challenge is to forgive those who left them to die. Because now the tribe is struggling and will not survive without their help. 

Early in 2024, I visited Grand Canyon with my husband. We were surprised when the tour guide suggested walking down inside the canyon even though the trail was covered in icy patches. We assumed we would be safe, and followed the guide down the trail, but conditions got worse and I headed back up with several others. Only my husband, the guide, and one other visitor carried on.
I was scared, going back up the trail, and imagined myself sliding off the sides of the canyon and into the abyss. It was an anxious wait until my husband returned. Later, I saw this book in the bookstore and picked it up.
Reading it, I learned there are many accidents at the canyon with many and various causes -- all kinds of weather, lack of knowledge and planning, dehydration, overconfidence , selfies etc. The book is a really interesting demonstration of… show more.