The opening chapters portraying Mackenzie's journeys and more recent continental crossings reveal the immensity of the task. Finkelstein then describes his personal crises, an aged mother and his own doubts, as he prepares [with a list of equipment at the back of the book], then is blocked from launching by Ottawa River Valley weather. Once under way, he imparts his successes and challenges with deep feeling. It's a wonderfully descriptive, evocative story of a man almost driven to explore Canada's river and lake systems. Max is helped, coaxed, encouraged, frustrated and elated by turns. You are with him at every portage; you share his joys and illnesses; you feel his rapture at being on Canada's rivers. Mostly, you gain some insight as to what kept both Mackenzie and Finkelstein going as they sought the vast Pacific shore.

It's easy to disparage the modern canoeist, particularly one on such an immense, but well-planned, journey. Finkelstein carries a GPS locating device, video recording equipment, Kraft Dinners [TM] and even "Sir Alex", a Teddy Bear, for good luck. With modern conveniences, friends who provide dinners and showers, getting a lift over crossings in a ute, it's clear he's not portaging into the past. That wasn't his intent. Finkelstein wanted to see, so far as possible, what Mackenzie saw. He succeed and imparts his observations in a readable and truly captivating account. Along the way, he gently reminds us that GPS devices and Kraft Dinners fade into obscurity when you're alone in a Lake Superior storm or shooting rapids down the Blackwater River in British Columbia. Then, Finkelstein is every bit the man the Scots explorer was and deserves much credit for his endeavours - and his narrative of the adventure. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]