ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When the facts change,
I change my mind.
What do you do, sir?
—JOHN MAYNARD KEYNES

Putting together a guidebook takes little talent. It’s basically a compilation of data already in the public domain. Still, writing a book is a voyage of discovery. I’ve never written a book before. Frankly, it’s overwhelming. To learn the conventions, I looked at how other books are put together; what other people have done, particularly with the more formulaic parts such as the table of contents, index, and acknowledgments. Where appropriate, I ended up imitating. Indices are the toughest; there really isn’t much of a shortcut. Acknowledgments are where the author thanks people without whom the work would not be what it is, or might not even exist. Does anyone read the acknowledgments? I always do, though rather perfunctorily.

Some acknowledgments begin by diluting responsibility for the book: “It takes a community to write a book” or “I have depended upon others,” etc. Unfortunately, for me this did not ring true. I was the only one paralyzed before the computer screen, agonizing about just what to say and how to say it, and wondering if it was worth saying. No one but me struggled to find just the right word and analyzed it for suitability, scope, and nuance. Eating vomit is much easier. I am the only one responsible for the veracity of what I’ve presented.

Just how many creative ways are there to thank someone for help? Even my thesaurus is at a loss for words: “much obliged,” “indebted to,” “appreciative of,” “praise,” “hymn,” “paean to,” et al. Unbelievably, it then emigrates overseas to: gracias, merci, danke, grazie, etc. Thanks, but no thanks. Some writers left me chuckling and, finally, slack-jawed at their bold-spirited but cornily convoluted steps into untrod appreciative territory: “Oceans of thanks to . . .” “Applause for . . .” “Three cheers for . . .” “Infinite blessings to . . .” “A ball of sun to . . .” “High fives to . . .” “Mucho kudos for . . .” “Wildflowers to . . .” “I must uplift those who . . .” “Beer and kinky sex to . . .” “Jelly-filled donuts to . . .” and, my favorite of all, “Puddle stomps to . . .”

There is absolutely no way I can compete against this lineup. So I’ll just capitulate and thank—some profoundly—the following people, in no particular order, noting their contributions:

Tina Cobos, my lover and consort, for her unconditional support, boundless enthusiasm, and unedited honesty. As my editor of first resort, she nipped some of my extravagant flights of fancy (and aborted takeoffs) and eased the burden on subsequent editors. As a paddling companion, she turned trouble into fun and fun into ecstasy.

Howard Miller, my late father, for living a life full of reason, adventure, and accomplishment (writing included) as if there were no other choice. He was an inspiration in the realization that we are each of us in the driver’s seat of life and can go anywhere we choose.

Ana Maria Miller, my late mother, for her encouragement, if not in my adventures, at least in my attempts to write, and for her endowment of roots and wings. I must also, perversely, give thanks for her timely death—it was expected, drawn out, and wrenching—during the fourth leg of this hegira. It galvanized my commitment to write this guide.

Anita Hatch-Miller, my sister, for bearing the brunt of my mother’s daily care.

Ann-Lawrie Aisa, my undergraduate Spanish literature professor and friend, for her technical editorial skills, unstinting help, and enthusiastic encouragement.

Pedro Aisa, also my undergraduate Spanish literature professor and lifelong friend, for existing.

Catherine Moody, once a protégé, ever a friend and confidante, for nudging this Luddite into the computer era, taking time out of her graduate studies to provide thoughtful feedback, illustrating this book with superb maps, and paddling the Vancouver Island portion with us.

Roy Smith, mentor, inspiration, hero, sometime-writer, fellow climber, and kayaker, for deigning to read and comment on the manuscript.

Chris and Kathy Grace, friends and fellow kayakers—with a boat collection exceeding 20—for sharing their food, wine, graciousness, conviviality, and home in Port Townsend, Washington, which we used as a staging point for many of the Inside Passage legs. To Chris, fellow bibliophile, in particular, for essential research and outrageous opinions; and to Kathy for reading much of the manuscript and finding no fault with it.

Martha Reinke, ex-lover, talented hack, animating spirit, and co-expeditionist, for getting me started writing, and under whose aegis I published my first paying article.

Dave and Beth Scalia, Inside Passage companions on the panhandle portion, for sharing the experience, making the trip legs safer and more fun, and providing valuable feedback on the manuscript.

Lance Moody and Wendy Ballas, Inside Passage companions on diverse sections of the trip, for their company and support.

Wallace Miller, my late uncle, for his poetry and unconventionality.

Zack Zdinak, longtime associate and talented artist, for taking a chance on this whole uncertain venture and gracing the book with his art.

Todd Balf and Bill Bradford, editors at Canoe and Liberty magazines, respectively, for finding enough merit in my writing to publish me nationally.

The Kelty Company, for contributing their Sunshade.

The crew of the Grizzly Bear, Kent and Joannie, for a delightful visit, invitation to kit down in the newly completed ranger’s cabin at bear-thick Lowe Inlet, and invaluable leads and information.

The caretakers at Namu and Buttedale for their hospitality, help with repairs, laundry, and showers.

Mark R. McCaughan, MD, for the kind use of his cabin.

Julie Rowe, information assistant for the Southeast Alaska Discovery Center, for going above and beyond the call of duty by hand copying out-of-print information that was essential for this book.

Reed Waite, executive director of the Cascadia Marine Trail, for advice, help, and for gracing this venture with the kind thoughts in his foreword.

Jennifer Hahn, Dorcas Miller, and John Dowd, accomplished kayakers, authors, and the 2002 West Coast Sea Kayak Symposium presenters, for help, advice, and encouragement.

Pat and Rusty Baillie for on-the-spot information along critical areas of the Vancouver Island east coast, and Amanda Babson for 2007 updates.

Chuck Carpenter and Regula Walter for independent research and support; and Steve Booth for critical feedback.

The owners and crews of Arizona Fiberglass and Boat Repair, Inc., the Graphic Center, and Stanley Lumber Company for help, patience, and information.

Thanks to Bill Bowers, my editor for the book’s first edition. I’ve heard—and experienced—horror stories of editors butchering writers’ prose beyond recognition; of excisions so extensive they’re really amputations. Bill paid me the finest compliment an author can expect to get: he let my work be. For that I will forever respect, cherish, and remember him. Thank you, Bill.

Finally, I’d like to thank the editorial team at The Countryman Press under Róisín Cameron for the vigilant editing of the revised, second edition of this Inside Passage guide.