But How Does it Make you Feel?

Of Canoes and Crocodiles: Paddling the Sepik in Papua New Guinea
By Tony Robinson-Smith
(2024, University of Alberta Press, Edmonton, Alberta, 225 pages)
A fellow author once suggested that because women have historically been less able to travel as freely as men, they learned to journey inside their heads. Whereas men, she surmised, tend to write about what happened to them while away, women often focus on that much-maligned female question: How did the journey feel?
My colleague’s observation might be a broad generalization, but it’s apt in the case of Tony Robinson-Smith and his book Of Canoes and Crocodiles. I enjoyed reading it and I learned a lot about traveling in Papua New Guinea; but I wanted to know more about what was going on inside the author’s head and heart. How did he feel about travelling in remote areas of this largely unknown country where only the most intrepid travelers are likely to tread? What motivated him and his wife, Nadya Ladouceur, both Canadians, to go there? Why paddle for 1000km along the remote Sepik River, Papaua New Guinea’s longest? Was it scary?
Instead of having a compelling reason for attempting this particular adventure, it was as if faced with a box of chocolates, Robinson-Smith closed his eyes and took whatever sweet his finger landed on. He didn’t have a life-long desire to paddle to the Bismarck Sea via this waterway. In fact, he writes that he and Nadya did little to prepare for the journey.
While I’m not a fan of books that are only about reaching a destination in record time, Of Canoes and Crocodiles has the opposite shortcoming: it lacks purpose. Despite Robinson-Smith having an interest in birdwatching and occasionally mentioning a desire to see a bird-of-paradise, he limits this narrative to simply listing the names of ones he happens upon. This left me wanting to know more about what are exotic species to most Canadians.
Might the book not have benefited if he had massaged his narrative into a quest to experience Papau New Guinea’s particularly outlandish national bird, the Raggiana bird-of-paradise, perform its unforgettable courtship ritual?
I had a similar reaction to the illustrations that accompany the text (including the lesser bird-of-paradise on page 211). They are brilliant reproductions of scenes, people and objects. Robinson-Smith is a fine draftsman whose ability to cope with perspective (You might detect a hint of jealousy here.) rivals that of a musician with perfect pitch. As with the text, I was impressed by the accuracy and precision of the sketches, but they didn’t move me.

Travel writing requires the author to connect with his or her audience. Their journey needs to resonate with the reader even if, especially if, the reader can’t imagine ever going on the trip. The book’s audience needs to care whether or not Robinson-Smith reaches his goal. More importantly, Robinson-Smith needs to care. In Of Canoes and Crocodiles, however, he off-handedly writes, “I take a deep breath and smile at Nadya, and she smiles back. This is not quite how we imagined arriving at the Bismarck Sea, but I feel relieved and happy.” Relieved and happy? That’s how I feel when my toast doesn’t burn.
We obtain different things from the books we read. Given its title, I’d expected Of Canoes and Crocodiles to be a rollicking adventure story. Instead, it taught me a lot about the craft of travel writing – and sketching. It also introduced me to a fascinating country I’m unlikely to ever visit. And for these things, I highly recommend Robinson-Smith’s book.
To learn more about the various species of birds-of-paradise watch this video and be amazed.





