Lawrence Winkler

Couldn’t stay away, could you? The characters and drama that seduced you in the first two books left a craving—and more Sababa is the cure. Inside these pages live the final seven original stories of survival, suspense, and satire from the Sage of the Salish Sea— the most special season of a seasoned specialist. He will amuse you with his wit and wisdom, and the spontaneous combustion and thrust they generate, often mixed in unequal proportions, as he dances with the devil in the pale moonlight.

We all remember our favorite places. You must really love this place if you want to return so badly. Or perhaps you just want to spend some more special time with Doctor Sababa, our Internal Medical consultant at Harbour City Regional Hospital. He would have amused you with his wit and wisdom, and the spontaneous combustion and thrust they generate, often mixed in unequal proportions, as he dances with the devil in the pale moonlight.

You will love Harbour City. Most visitors to the island drive right through, without taking time to explore its attractions. But you’re not most visitors. You will get to spend some time. Go head. Turn on your radio. That’s BC Bud, 101.3 FM on your Home and Native Band. He will announce your special arrival. And if you catch something more than a salmon, you could be referred to Doctor Sababa, an Internal Medicine consultant at Harbour City Regional, the Sage of the Salish Sea.

Madagascar is a drug. Between its dazzling culture and biosphere—ninety percent of its species found nowhere else—everything is beautiful. But nothing is possible. The world’s fourth largest island is also its fourth most corrupt nation. The rivers run red.

The fates of three tormented men, born as many eras apart, come together in a rock cave on the Coromandel Peninsula of New Zealand— Tama of the Ngatei Hei, Billy Green in the days of gold, and Dr. Sababa from across the ocean— seeking revenge, discovering treasure, and searching for redemption. Inside The Bolthole, on a mossy platform, is the skull of a Maori chieftain, the silver button of a British Naval captain, and a greenstone club.

Somewhere beyond the Salish Sea lived the Stout Men who did the Megin River, and Tibet, and the Amazon. There was Tictac and Poldy, Cliffy and Madame, Captain and Gung, and Papa Smurf, who would die someday, but not yet.

Most remote islands of the imagination conjure up paradise. Japan is an archipelago of puzzlement. Most remote islands of the imagination conjure up paradise. The principle product of Nippon is mystery. Who are these people? How do they view themselves, and others? What makes them behave so well, and so badly? And why is Japan the weirdest place on Earth?

The American West was a notion, not a nation. It was a process, not a place. Late in the summer of 2013, I set out to find the Old West, what it had been, and what had replaced it. The quest for my own wild panorama would turn wheels of fortune into a movable feast of Wagon Days. And if this don’t get your fire started, your wood’s wet.

It lives in the hole where the moon used to be. And for most of the worst part of the northern winter, over the last two decades, so have we. The real South Pacific was not a Bali Hai musical, but a drama of cannibals and castaways, headhunters and slavers, paradise and perdition.

The Final Cartwheel is the story of a young doctor’s return home, after a five-year hitchhiking odyssey around the world. Through East Asia, Indonesia, and around the Antipodes, the circle becomes unbroken.

His vision quest continued around the second cartwheel of the European Grand Tour. In Hind Cartwheel, blessed by the living goddess on his thirtieth birthday, he spins the dharma wheel of the Indian subcontinent.

In the summer of 1980, a maverick young doctor gave it all up, to hitchhike around the world. Between the Cartwheels is the sequel to that cartwheel, his vision quest continuing now, on the European Grand Tour adventure of a lifetime.

In the summer of 1980, a maverick young doctor gave it all up, to hitchhike around the world. The first arc he carved with his thumb stopped a little red pickup that took him over the horizon.

Twenty-five years ago they bought a homestead, in the middle of Vancouver Island, on the water’s edge. There are still reflections off the small lake at the foot of Mount Benson- of gardens and vineyards and woodland encounters.