Got a Little Waterlogged

First of all, I love Rinker Buck, or at least I think I do. His respect for all of humanity is admirable, and he exemplifies his bonhomie as he traverses hill and dale (or in this case, wave and wake) during his adventures. While I ate up the Oregon Trail experience, for some reason, this odyssey down the Mississippi in a flatboat just fell a little, well, flat for me. It felt like he had to have a certain number of pages and was fulfilling that quota with lots of nautical jargon--not my forte and I'm guessing I'm not alone there--and at times I was scanning forward to see where the thread would end. As a result, the culmination of his trip felt a little anticlimactic, in that I'd wanted him to hurry up and get there for a while. I'll read his next book, for sure, as I would for any "friend", but I won't beat myself up if I skip some pages.