Synopses & Reviews
Chapter One
It was the sixth day, the last full day of our trip, and this was the area where we were supposed to have the best chance of seeing the humpbacks. Gimme a whale, I thought. I'm ready for forty tons of breaching humpback whale just like on the postcards.
My eyes were locked on the horizon. The last thing I expected was action right under my nose. Whooosh! came a fountain of water and an explosion of breath as something huge burst out of the water only a few yards away. There, right next to me, was the head of what might have been a giant seal. Big eyes, little ears, long whiskers -- I didn't know what it was. The animal looked me over for a second, snorted, then slipped back underwater.
Wow! I said under my breath. Come back and give me another look, big fella.
For a minute, nothing. I was sure it was gone for good when, suddenly, the sea erupted with fountains and whooshes. This time five of the critters were bobbing up and down and snorting. Their large eyes were dark and mischievous. A furry water polo team with attitude, that's how they struck me.
When they popped up again, they were back where they had first appeared. Still checking me out, they snorted at me, almost comically. Cool trick, I called.
Two, three times, I whacked my paddle on the water, hoping they would repeat their stunt so I could get another close look at them.
Same as before, theyheaded straight for me. Same as before, they passed right under my kayak.
Andy! came a voice from behind, and there was Monica, paddling toward me like there was no tomorrow. A ski racer in the winters, Monica was the trip leader even though she was the younger of our two guides. I was basically in awe of her.
Stop! Stop! she cried, as she reached out and grabbed hold of my kayak.
What's wrong? I wasn't doing any --
Those are Steller's sea lions, Andy. They can be dangerous! They weigh close to two thousand pounds. Did they snort at you?
It was amazing. They wanted to play.
Maybe, she said, raising her eyebrows, but they can play rough. They were more like charging you, challenging you. A couple of years ago one of them tipped over a kayak. It happened to one of the other compan --
Suddenly Monica's eyes went big, and I saw why. Not very far away, an immense whale was bursting out of the sea. Its enormous white flippers flailed as it rose twisting into the air.
For a second the whale seemed to hang suspended, water streaming off its sides. With a resounding splash, it fell on its back into the sea.
Behind us, cheers went up from the group, and someone hollered, First whale!
With a huge smile, Monica reached for my shoulder and gave me a forgiving pat. Humpback whales, Andy! This is what we came for!
With a sudden pivot, she sped toward the others.
It was going to take me a while to recover from the sting of Monica's reprimand. I was fourteen, as young as Adventure Alaska would allow on these trips, and the only kid in the group. For sixdays, I'd been trying so hard.
As I paddled on, I thought about what Monica had just said, that we'd come for the whales. In my case, that was only partly true.
Mostly I had come all the way from Colorado to Baranof Island to make a pilgrimage. My father had died on Baranof. Of course, Monica didn't know anything about that.
A few minutes later, with all seven kayaks paddling together, the group witnessed a second breach, and then a third. A little while after that, two humpbacks at once rocketed out of the sea.
Okay, guys, let's quit paddling, Monica instructed. We're about as close as we should get. Let's raft up. Grab on to the kayak next to you.
She began to tap on the hull of her kayak. Let's let them know where we are, so they can steer clear. I'd rather not go airborne on a whale, or find myself underneath one when it falls, thank you very much.
My father had been convinced that the islands of southeast Alaska were hiding deep, dark secrets from the past. When I was five years old, he died trying to find those secrets.
Flanked by whales breaching in the strait, we paddled across the narrow mouth of Cosmos Cove. Our last campsite was in sight at the foot of the cliff. All my feelings about losing my father, growing up without him, were breaking through the surface.
Synopsis
The land was slipping away,
the wind was howling,
and I was in a world of trouble.
0n the last day of a sea kayak trip in southeast Alaska, fourteen-year-old Andy Galloway paddles away from the group. He's on a mission of the heart. His father, an archeologist, died only a few miles away. A sudden gale propels Andy across the strait. He swims ashore, freezing and barefoot, onto Admiralty Island, an immense wilderness of forests, rain, and bears.
When hope of rescue fades, Andy starts walking. Starvation leads him further into the wild and into danger. He encounters a dog running with wolves, and later a man dressed in cedar-bark clothing, carrying a stone-tipped spear. The Wild Man vanishes into the forest, but the dog reappears and leads Andy to ... the Wild Man's lair, at the mouth of a cave.
It's fear that drives Andy into the cave and to the adventure of a lifetime. What's at stake are the discoveries Andy's father died trying to find, the answers to the most exciting puzzle in American archeology -- who were the first Americans?
About the Author
Will Hobbs is the author of fourteen novels for upper elementary, middle school and young adult readers, as well as two picture book stories. Seven of his novels,
Bearstone,
Downriver,
The Big Wander,
Beardance,
Far North,
The Maze, and
Jason's Gold were named Best Books for Young Adults by the American Library Association.
Far North was selected by the ALA as one of the "Top Ten" young adult books of 1996, and
Ghost Canoe received the Edgar Allan Poe Award in 1998 for Best Young Adult Mystery.
Will's books have won many other awards, including the California Young Reader Medal, the Western Writers of America Spur Award, the Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, the Colorado Book Award, and nominations to state award lists in over thirty states. A graduate of Stanford University and former reading and language arts teacher, Will has been a full-time writer since 1990. He lives with his wife, Jean, in Durango, Colorado.
In His Own Words...
"Readers often ask me, "What made you want to write in the first place?" That's easy for me to answer: It was because I loved reading. If you like reading stories, you too might start thinking, I want to try that. I want to write a story!
"I grew up in an Air Force family. We lived in Pennsylvania, Panama, Virginia, Alaska, northern California, southern California, and Texas. I have three brothers and a sister. While we were living in Alaska, I fell in love with mountains, rivers, fishing, baseball, and books. Books I read on my own were always the best part of school for me. I was always going on adventures in my imagination.
"We moved from Alaska to California when I was halfway through fifth grade. I roamed the hills almost every day after school, and in the summers I went backpacking in the Sierras. After graduating from Stanford University, I moved to southwestern Colorado, where my wife, Jean, and I now make our home. We do lots of hiking in the nearby San Juan Mountains. You won't be surprised to learn that I was a reading teacher for many years before I became a full-time writer.
"About half of my ideas for stories come from life experiences, and the other half come from reading, as I learn more about whatever has sparked my interest. In the Grand Canyon one year, we met some rafters from Canada who told us about a remote river they loved called the Nahanni. I found a book on it, and we soon found ourselves heading way up into northern Canada, hiring a bush pilot, and flying in to the Nahanni. A thirteen-day trip on our raft led to months of fascinating reading about the land and people of the Northwest Territories. The result was Far North, set on the Nahanni.
"Learning to write well is like learning to play a musical instrument or a sport. It takes practice and dedication. My big breakthrough was learning to write with the five senses. In the world of the story, both writer and reader are imagining what it's like to be someone else, so you want to let the reader hear, see, taste, touch, and smell what your characters are experiencing.
"When I'm starting a new story, it takes a lot of faith. I'm like a woodcarver staring at a block of wood. It helps me to remember how, in the story of Pinocchio, that block of wood turned into a real boy. If you just keep working, you'll reach a point when the story starts coming to life. That's what a writer lives for! From that point on, you're hearing conversations in your head, you're seeing things happen, and you're just writing it all down."