Review: Where the Rhododendrons Bloom

 I was sadly disappointed in this hiking blog turned into a book. I read travel stories because I like to travel, of course, but I read other people’s stories because I like to see how the travel changes them. I want to know everything—where they come from, how they experienced the world around them, and how they changed along the way. Set against the backdrop of mountains, bears, and funky other hikers, I’m still anticipating a highly personal adventure and I want to come out of it knowing the person and wishing I were them.

But this book just didn’t do that for me. It seemed to be good, at first, but soon devolved into a rather boring and repetitious listing of each days happenings—

I met Strider, Hip-hop and Whirlybird at the shelter and we drank a lot of beer and did whiskey shots; I went to my tent and got up and bought snacks at the gas station and hiked another fifteen miles, then we met up with Jaybird and Freddy-Snacks and had trail magic, and then I hiked with Sunshine for another five miles and stopped at the shelter where they had a case of beer and we drank a lot….

I met the names, but not the people.  And the roads she traveled might as well have been city streets, for all the outdoor wonder she wanted to share. She mentioned the outdoors but only as a backdrop to the shallow-copy humans she met.

I’m exaggerating a little, but I was finding myself skipping a lot of pages. The minute she leaft the trail and hit a party scene, I figured I might as well jump ahead for a bit.  But hey, this is HER adventure. Hike your own hike, as they say. I’m sure a lot of people will love reading it.