A little late this year, but since I so enjoyed writing the last one, here is my books of 2020….
January - I began 2020 by attending an alpine skills course at Mt Cook, accompanied in the hut by Laurence Fearnley's Degrees of Seperation. If you read last year’s books blog, you may remember that I am a huge fan of her writing. I was pleased to find that several of the mountain guides in the hut knew of her. Yes, spread the word. Haha. I followed this up with another of hers, Room, which really moved me. Really, she's so good. I finally made the time to finish the audiobook of Night Train to Lisbon, which had initially hooked me with a bit of intrigue and some eloquent philosophising. In the end I found it a little long and slow moving, but really quite lovely and thought provoking. I also finished up Isabelle Allende, In the Midst of Winter, which was similarly mysterious early on. I appreciated the chance to read something from a South American perspective, and realised the value in consuming writing from a diverse range of authors. Having become fascinated with the topic of human sexuality, I scoffed down Jesse Bering's Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us in a couple of days. It was pretty interesting, but he's no Sarah Pascoe. I can't recommend her book Sex, Power, Money enough. In a beautifully cyclical sequence of events, I then found myself listening to Mark Manson's Everything is F*cked while traipsing along ridgelines in the rain, on the very same route I did the January prior, with his last book. I found the first half a little underwhelming, but Part 2 was pretty on point and I enjoyed chewing over his ideas. The pick of this month though was The Unbearable Lightness of Being. What a delight. I was captivated from the first paragraph, and found myself wanting to sneak away from social situations to read... Such a beautiful novel. February - In February I had two weeks off work which I jam packed with back-to-back outdoors missions, meaning I read very little as sleep was precious! Upon returning to work I finally read Animal Farm – I know! Still some gaping holes in my reading history. I then tried to read Suetonius' The Twelve Caesars, at the recommendation of a friend, and realised we have very different reading preferences... and that's ok! It's not often I completely give up on a book, but I did. This month I also started the audiobook of Dan Ariely's The (Honest) Truth about Dishonesty. I found this super interesting. He brings together behavioural psychology research that looks at dishonesty and cheating, and the factors that influence our likelihood to lie or cheat, including the irrational forces at play. Worth a read. March - In March I was besotted with Love in the Time of Cholera. Gosh how I long to write something so colourful yet astute, so moving and beautiful. I was also really impressed with Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo (2019 Booker prize winner). While her writing style is much more matter of fact than the more flowery authors I have been devouring, the individual storylines are so real and emotive and the interweaving of them so clever and uncontrived, it is truly a masterpiece of a novel. My junk food book this month was Where the Forest Meets the Stars. It was entertaining and sweet and easy to read. Then came Covid19 lockdown and my reading stepped up in earnest, especially those chunky books I won't ever carry into the hills. First up Arundahti Roy, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness. This took some time to wade through. While there were absolute gems of poeticism that kept me hooked, the plot was weak at times and the number of characters hard to keep track of, and meant I didn't form particularly strong attachments to any of them. Overall I thought there was enough beauty to be worth the journey, but be warned, the journey takes the reader down some dark and violent streets. April - The lockdown continued, and so did the reading… I quenched my thirst for the outdoors with back-to-back adventure books. I enjoyed Pushing His Luck, a translation of the 1863 report by Jacob Lauper, describing the first expedition over Whitcombe Pass, and consequent death of Henry Whitcombe. What an absolute suffer fest. Quite remarkable. Then I tucked into Beyond the Southern Lakes, which covers the adventures of W. G. Grave and friends, climbing and exploring Fiordland between 1897 and 1931, using Grave’s diaries as the basis. With topo maps of Fiordland wall-papered onto my van ceiling, these stories really captured my imagination and inspired all sorts of scheming for future missions. I also discovered Call Me By Your Name, based on learning that a song I liked was on the movie soundtrack based on the book… Long chain… Glad it got me here. I enjoyed this a lot!! I shared several quotes from this with a friend, until he eventually just read it himself! May - The last book I began before Lockdown ended was Slaughterhouse-Five. I appreciated the style and enjoyed the humour, I can see why people love this book. Yet, not my favourite. Then I stumbled across a copy of So you've been publicly shamed (Jon Ronson), which turned out to be super thought provoking (and funny). Social media has given us an avenue to pursue mob justice and vilify others for their transgressions. Ronson meets with people whose lives have been ruined by these shamings, while asking what other effects this culture is having on our society at large. Gooooood. June - During a long lockdown phone conversation reflecting upon our own mortality, a friend suggested the book Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro. Indeed, this book was on topic, although it had a lot more going on also. It felt faintly dystopian, while not straying all that far from the realm of possibility. I enjoyed it. I balanced that naval gazing with a fun Irish mystery novel, racing through Scenes of a Graphic Nature by Caroline O’Donoghue. July - While tramping on the West Coast, one of the huts I stayed in had a copy of Novel about my wife by Emily Perkins. I began reading as my boyfriend cooked me dinner, and soon couldn’t put it down, eventually carrying it out (I deposited it in another hut to pay it forward). While the overall storyline wasn’t as strong as it could have been – I felt she tried too hard to create a sense of mystery, leaving strands of the story vague – there was something about her writing I found immensely compelling. Be warned, this novel deals with mental illness, and at times left me questioning my own mental well-being as I was pulled into the mind of the titular wife. Then my birthday rolled around, and I was gifted Of Love and Other Demons, by one of my favourite authors, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Great gift! As usual, beautifully written and funny. In July I also started Hillbilly Elegy, by J.D. Vance. I would really recommend it. He explores his own childhood and cultural background, as a self-identified hillbilly, exploring how the U.S. has reached a point of such immense cultural division. He has some pretty fascinating insights that helped to humanise Trump voters for me. August - A friend of mine loaned me a copy of Paul Powell’s mountaineering book Just where do you think you've been? I loved his writing style, warm and down to earth, and the way his love for the mountains shone through. It was less a story of mountain summits, more a story of friendships formed and cemented, of quiet moments of contemplation and a deep appreciation for shelter, be that a bivvy rock or a mountain hut. I will also confess to listening to all of the audiobook of Outlander. What started out as an entertaining historical story, several hours in turned into lady porn. Which wasn’t all bad, but even I skipped a few sex scenes as they started to get a bit much! In the hills I ripped through an old copy of Barry Crump’s Wild Pork and Watercress I found in a hut. He’s a classic kiwi author for a reason, with a knack for a good yarn. Knowing that the film Hunt for the Wilderpeople is based on this, I was surprised to see how much more depth the book had. The slowly building relationship between Ricky and Hec, the building of bush skills and resilience over time, and the growing sense that maybe the state should just leave them to it… Plus a surprising end. September - By now I had managed to track down more Emily Perkins, and I tucked into a short story collection titled Not her Real Name. I decided this must be Perkins’ strong suit, as the stories were consistently brilliant. Again, she dealt often with themes of mental illness, and her stories were engaging and emotive. October I continued on the Perkins train and polished off The Forests next, and decided that I love her as a novelist after all! This book takes you on a journey, following the Forrest siblings from childhood to old age, weaving in several perspectives. She shows us the imperfections and flaws of them all, as well as their struggles. I felt it was a mirror, showing hidden yet shared elements of the human experience, and making me look at my own motivations and life choices. November - For November I thought I would finally try some science fiction, picking up Dune. It was quite the change of pace, and the style took me a bit of getting used to (particularly the extent to which the world of Dune had its own language and terminology). But I am glad I stuck with it, as it was a great adventure, and I enjoyed reflecting upon the archetypal characters - particularly Paul’s journey from prodigal son to guerrilla warrior / prophet, with the moral conflict he felt. December - I rounded out the year with a couple of books I’ve been hearing people mention lately. First, Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neala Hurston. I found myself having some trouble settling in, due to the way she used phonetic spelling for the speech of her characters. But once I got in the swing of it, it worked, and in between there were sections of prose that I really liked. An unflinching portrayal of imperfect characters moving through a flawed world, and a glimpse into the experience of being coloured in America in the 1930’s. I washed that down with Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I found the concept really entertaining, and enjoyed the way he surprised you with old gods hidden within banal characters, in humorous ways. I also enjoyed the sarcastic commentary on modern life, and the observation that “religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all.” Jordan Peterson would counter that they are much more than mere metaphor, but I’m not so sure… 😉
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Trapping: What does a typical trip look like? So now that you know what a trap looks like and what we are trying to catch and why, what does this actually look like in practice? Let's go through an imagined six day trip in the Murchison Mountains. The day before the trip we all gather in Te Anau to pack our gear. This means sorting out eggs and meat to send in. A typical day might entail 50-60 traps, or as many as 100, so for a six day trip that's a lot of eggs! Our bait gets dropped by helicopter at each of the huts we will stay in, so we can also send our own food and change of clothes etc. The next morning we arrive at the helipad bright and early. Each of us will be dropped to a different location, armed with an array of tools and a backpack full of eggs. We wave goodbye to our mates, and then we're on our own. Our workplan will tell us which traps to check, any maintenance that is needed to keep the traps functioning well, and where we will end up for the night. Each day will take us on a new adventure, trapping from hut to hut, or sometimes completing a big loop to end at the same location. A good day might look like this... The morning dawns cool and clear. I've dried my boots with newspaper overnight, and my clothes are also dry. I fry up a hearty breakfast of halloumi and beans, and get an early start to beat the heat. My workplan takes me up a gentle ridge, through gorgeous glades of open beech forest. Most of the traps are empty, meaning I move quickly, with little cleaning to do. By lunchtime I am above bushline, and I enjoy a sandwhich with views of Fiordland peaks as far as the eye can see. In the afternoon my trapline follows a bubbling stream, and about 3pm I stop and take a dip in a deep pool. I arrive back at the hut by 5pm, to find it is still in the sun. I cook dinner and read a book, soaking up the last rays, and marvelling at the relative lack of sandflies. Ahhhh, trapper paradise.... A not-so-good-day might look like this... I awaken to rain on the roof of the hut. My boots are sopping wet from yesterday, and although I tried to wring out my clothes last night and optimistically hung them in the damp annex, the thought of putting them on makes my toes curl. Eventually I coax myself out to start the day. My work plan takes me up a steep bush-clad face, with several sections featuring a fixed rope to haul myself up. My quads burn and I slip on wet tree roots, hearing eggs crack in my backpack. Around lunchtime I emerge above bushline to be slapped around the face with a cold wind and sideways rain. My fingers are frozen in my wet gloves, and cleaning the traps becomes more challenging. My day is slow going, with grubby traps to scrub and lots of rats to clear. Mid afternoon I realise I left my tool for opening the trapboxes at the last trap box, and have to double back, which means scrambling back up 200m elevation. Grrr. This happens once more later in the day. My brain is tired. I arrive at the hut close to 7pm, exhausted and feeling sad about the cold hut with mould covering every surface. After six days, I would trap my way to the lake shore for a boat pick up to take me home. Sometimes this is the Te Anau Glow worms cave boat, which makes us very aware of how we smell by that point, in contrast to the clean and perfumed tourists. Having ridden the roller coaster of emotional experiences, we arrive back at HQ to joyfully consume hot showers, cold beers, and fresh food. Mmmmmm.
Stoat Trapping 101: What we do and WhyKia ora, and welcome to the first in what will hopefully become a frequent blog about the world of stoat trapping. I'm gonna keep this one real basic, and over the following weeks and months tease out a bit more detail and attempt to answer all your questions, from the intimidatingly technical to the hilarious. So please keep sending them! First of all, what are we trapping and why? Our target species is the stoat, a wilely mustelid that was introduced to New Zealand to control the exploding numbers of introduced rabbits, which were quick to cause mass erosion of the landscape. Upon being released in this new land, the wee stoaties discovered that while chasing down a rabbit would provide a good dinner, it was much easier to go after our many species of flightless and ground nesting birds. So how do we trap them? We use DOC150 kill traps, generally two traps per wooden box. We bait these traps with one fresh hen's egg and one cube of rabbit meat, placed between the two traps. Baffles force the animal to enter at just the right point to step onto the trigger plate in position so that the force of the trap closing will cause a swift and humane kill. When I reach a trap box, I record catch data, dispose of the bodies, clean the traps so they are shiny and functioning, place fresh bait and reset the traps. Where do I trap? The team I work with have a network of trap lines throughout the Murchison Mountains, home to the Takahe (super cool bright blue flightless bird – for almost 70 years this was the only wild population left in NZ, until their reintroduction on the Heaphy track in 2019). We also trap the Milford track and adjacent valleys, parts of the Routeburn track and nearby area, and do other work in areas such as the Borland and Eglington Valleys, Secretary and Resolution Islands, and occasionally further afield. How long is a trip? Our work trips range from day trips, to six/seven/eight day trips staying in wee huts and/or camping. Over the course of these longer trips, it is common to share a hut with one or two of our workmates for a night or two, but we may also go a full week without seeing another human. Why do I love it? Frankly, the opportunity to spend so much time out in such beautiful environments. I've really enjoyed coming to know these areas, feeling a sense of familiarity and enjoying the changing seasons. I still have so many moments of being stopped in my tracks by a stunning view, and being alone grants more wildlife encounters than I've ever had being out in a group. I've spotted Takahe in the forest, in the alpine and in the valleys, I've stood face to face with some gorgeous stags, chatted with kaka, watched flocks of kakariki and mohua, and of course hung out with plenty of curious kea.
Having been inspired by @RubyClaireee's 2019 Literary Memoir, I too decided to sit down and reflect upon all I've read this year. I had made a New Year's resolution to read more, and it has been one of my richest reading years in a long time, helped along by great bookish yarns with friends. Yeahhhhhh. Let's keep it rolling!
January – I saw the New Year in reading The Body is Not an Apology, by Sonya Renee Taylor. She challenged me to look at my own biases and assumptions around bodies, which was at times uncomfortable. A tiny book that packs a punch. I then polished off my Christmas pressie books, first Wild Journeys, by Bruce Ainsley. I found it a bit heavy on the kiwi nostalgia, but I loved Ainsley's writing style. I found him charismatic and engaging and left it in a backcountry hut for my fellow trappers to enjoy. Next was Ajax the Kea Dog, by my mate Corey Mosen, which I read while volunteering on a kea-banding trip. Appropriate. Get yourself a copy if you want a feel-good read. I listened to the audiobook of Boy Swallows Universe over four sunny day trapping in Takahe country. This wee gem is at once a story of trauma and violence, and also hope and love. Heart warming and raw, I fell in love with Trent Dalton and downloaded his podcasts as soon as the book was over. My actual book on this trip was The Tunnel, by Ernesto Sabato. I'm still not sure what I made of this, or my friend's insistence that I read it. My next audio binge was The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, which had me screaming YESSSSS into the wind and rain as I trudged along tussock ridgelines in foul weather, noddding my head in agreement with Mark Manson repeatedly. On point. The same trip I subjected myself to a dystopian binge of Brave New World, followed by We (rumoured to have inspired 1984), while cooped up in a tiny hut on a rain day, watching the river rise closer and closer to my door. It got intense. I then tried to start reading The Spirit Level and felt an interesting discomfort in my belly. I am all for trying to make society a better place for everyone, but can we walk in that direction without taking things too far? Eerrrmmmm. I still haven't sat back down with these thoughts. Anyone want to email me to dicsuss? February - In February, there was a guy in my life. Instead of reading, my evenings were filled with talk, and star gazing, and cuddles and lovely feelings. I carried around Mr Explorer Douglas, and read him snippets from Douglas' diaries. I loved Douglas' fondness for, and personification of, kaka, and his scathing humour. For example: “Why shouldn't cliffs tower and peaks stand erect? Do people expect them to lie flat? An ice cave is blue, what other colour could it be?” Oh, Charlie. You grumpy old man. I was also slowly making my way through the audiobook of 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, which I soon followed with Sapiens. I'm sure you've heard of Yuval Noah Harari by now. If not, give one of his books a go. At least one of your friends will be keen to talk about it, I'm very sure! March - In March, a friend and workmate was reading Butler's Ringlet, and hearing him talk about it I swiftly followed suit. Lawrence Fearnley is truly one of my all time favourite authors. I followed this with another of hers, The Quiet Spectacular. Both were sublime. I feel like she achieves what Jordon Peterson talks of as “suprareal”, when a good work of fiction is more real than reality, telling us something deeper about what it means to be human. Mmmmmm. April - In April I was listening to Mutiny on the Bounty, an entertaining exploration of the fascinating story of the HMS Bounty. Bligh sound in Fiordland is named after the Captain of the Bounty, and there is a Bounty Haven nearby. This caught my curiosity, and the story lived up to my expectation. I'd definitely recommend doing some digging if you're not familiar with these events. I may have stolen* from someone in the office a copy of The Go-Between by L.P. Hartley, which was surprisingly good! Drama, human emotion, intrigue, passion. Told through the eyes of an old man reflecting upon a period of his childhood, in a way that made it feel quite poignant. [*Long term loan? If you own this book, I'm sorry, I can post it back!] I spent a rain day in a hut reading The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, at the encouragement of the same friend who gave me The Tunnel. As soon as I was out of the hills I messaged him, “Why would you do that to me?!?” Far out. I have never found such a bleak and tense feeling book. Granted it is superbly crafted, but I felt so on edge and uncomfortable, and will never shake the image of the small boy sighing, “warm at last.” My workmate arrived at the hut to find me openly weeping. May - At the end of April, things came to an end with the guy. Nevertheless he loaned me his copy of Norwegian Wood, to introduce me to Murikami. Wow! Where has this author been all my life? Less magical realism than his other books, what Murikami does well here is create incredibly authentic charcaters, flawed and relatable. I couldn't help but become wildly invested. On a side note, this marked a new trend of receiving “break up books,” having been given a copy of Factfulness last winter from an ex, the day after he called things off. It created a curious contrast in myself, as I was devastated at my loss, but thrilled at the book and given a new sense of hope about the world. Hmmm. My audiobook of choice this month was Lost Connections, Yohann Hari's exploration of the causes of depression, and why mental health problems seem to be so common in our time. I found it super interesting and chatted my friends' ears off about it. I also listened to Normal People, by Sally Rooney, which was quite beautiful, and made me heart ache a little bit. June - I kicked off June camped among the Pines, at Mt Arapiles, Victoria. I spent my days learning to lead trad, or following my friends up exciting multi-pitch routes, and my evenings sat around a campfire making new pals. We had a fair few rainy/cold days, and I was grateful for my hammock and finally got into Anna Karenina, which I had been slowly wading into over the past few weeks. Tolstoy had hooked me early on with gems like, “all the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.” I came to appreciate the slow build, became very fond of Konstantin Levin, and by the end I was loving it. Such a clever and lovely book. At the Pines I scored a copy of Paul Pritchard's Totem Pole, an engaging tale of his horrific climbing accident and amazing recovery. Once I returned to NZ, I borrowed Paul's earlier book, Deep Play. What he lacks in writing style, he makes up for in entertaining yarns. Such an interesting character. July - In July I spent two weeks building out the back of my newly acquired van into a camper. I was accompanied by the audiobook of All the Light We Cannot See. I do wish I had just read it, as I feel I missed the power of some of the prose. It is a beautiful book, and clever, and I thoroughly enjoyed the seperate storylines coming together later in the book. However, it was a little on the long side... Can I say that, as I turn this blog post into a mini novel? August - I was back to work in August, amid a winter wonderland of snow-laden trees and majestic peaks. I listened to Stephen Fry's Mythos, and Heroes, giggling at the way he brought the characters to life with a cheeky application of modern sensibilities. I remembered my teenage facination with the Greeks and Romans, and started listening to Natalie Haynes' Stands Up For The Classics, and polished off her book A Thousand Ships, a re-telling of the Trojan War, through the perspectives of several of the women involved. I thought this was such a neat idea, and it was well delivered. Cool book! I also read The Trial, before accepting that Kafka just isn't really for me. I really wanted to like him. I didn't enjoy Metamorphosis, but felt I had to give him a second chance. Oh well. Horses for courses, as my ex would always say. September - September appears to have been a doozy for book consumption for me. I kicked things off in the Eglington valley reading Sigrid Crump's autobiographical Bushwoman infront of the fire. A short read, but just so cool to hear from such a non-traditional female role model. Her life was so unconventional and wild, and yet humble. I wonder how many characters there have been like this around NZ, that just fly under the radar. I followed this with How to be a Woman, by Caitlin Moran, chuckling my way through at her bold, truthful, cheeky style, while also realising what a bubble I live in, as many of her pop culture references flew right by me. Keeping on the empowered lady vibe, I gave in and downloaded The Guilty Feminist, by Deborah Francis-White. A long-time listener to her podcast, I wasn't sure I'd get much out of the book, but in fact I found plenty of new material, and enjoyed the more structured presentation of her ideas in book form. After this trifecta, I was feeling so empowered and fired up. I got my hands on another Murakami book, After Dark. Far out. I love him. There was a dialogue about death / mortality that I just kept re-reading, my arms covered in goosebumps with the recognition of my deepest thoughts and fears. I then gave Hunter S. Thompson my first dabble (shocking, I know), reading Screwjack. I confess, it did not grab me in the way I thought it might. But I will keep him on my reading list. My audiobook selection was light. The Dry, Jane Harper, and The Sisters, Dervla McTiernan provided entertaining crime fiction / murder mystery fodder. Not my usual style, but tasty treats. I think my best friend would probably call this my “junk food” reading. October - In October I spent two weeks working in the gorgeous forest of the Iris Burn, around the Kepler track, listening to The Testaments, Margaret Atwood's latest. It lived up to my expextations, classic Atwood. I found a copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, The Autumn of the Patriach, in the hut and struggled my way through run-on sentences lasting several pages, hanging in there for the joy of some lush writing and beautiful gems. He is such a talented writer, and his books are so masterfully translated. For my next work stint I was loaned a copy of Degrees for Everyone, by former New Zealand politican Bob Jones. A satirical take on campus politics and the commercialisation of universities, I did find this really quite funny, although those who knew me at university may be a little shocked by that. I guess I am becoming a little more moderate in my old age. Concurrently I was listening to Dark Emu, in which Bruce Pascoe brings together a string of evidence that aboriginal culture was more complex and sophisticated than the common narrative would have us believe. Including excerpts from accounts of early Australian explorers, this book is really interesting and I feel that anyone living in Australia should really give it a whirl. November - In November I finally got stuck into Sam Harris's Waking Up, after enjoying several of his podcasts. I'm so glad I did, as the book delivered more than I'd expected. Not just a personal tale of the benefits of meditation, a la Dan Harris (10% Happier), Waking Up delves into neuroscience and psychology, and is unerringly rational while not shying from discussing spirituality. I liked it. I wasn't sure if I would include this, as it feels very embarassing, but.... Having listened to a Bang podcast about Kink, I gave into curiosity and downloaded the entire 50 Shades trilogy to my Kindle. Of all the books I read this year, these three were the biggest waste of my time. Why did I read all three? Some kind of masochistic curiosity? I couldn't help wondering how these books are so popular with so many women, and secretly hoping they would get more kinky... But ultimately, these books are romance novels about a dysfunctional, borderline abusive relationship, with a whiff of kinky sex. Kink is treated as an appalling thing to be ashamed of, and only resulting from Grey's tragic abusive childhood. Ahhhhh. So bad. December - My final couple of weeks of work for the year were pretty physically punishing, as we were replacing a lot of our traps, which meant lugging heavy loads around. This lead me to seek light listening – a lot of comedy podcasts – until I discovered Sarah Pascoe's book Sex, Power, Money. Many of my friends have had to endure me raving about this book over the past few weeks, but for good reason! Pascoe lends her cheeky brand of comedy to a thought-provoking, intelligent look at what makes us tick, exploring a range of subjects including dating, gender norms and expectations, masturbation, pornography, power imbalances, and evolutionary biology. She is refreshingly upfront about her own biases and assumptions and challenges them. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I saw the year out savouring Leonard Cohen's Beautiful Losers. Dark, erotic, tragic, mesmerising. Yessssssss. Happy New Year, ya beautiful losers ;) |
I am a conservation field worker in New Zealand. I love mountains, sunrises, river swims, barefeet, cold beer, campfires, live music and whiskey. Archives
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