I bought this book in some trepidation, because I had loved Patrick Leigh Fermor's account of his walk down the Danube to the Black Sea in the 1930s, and I didn't know how it was going to be surpassed. But this was a completely different book, and it took me on a completeley different journey. With his own knowledge of German, Eames introduces us not only to the landscape and characters of this ancient highway, but also to its astonishing historical importance, in, for example, the migration of Swabians sailing off on unstoppable rafts to populate eastern Europe, and the more recent legacy of the Balkans conflict. He did well to meet the residue blue-blooded Habsburgs - and in finding out about Leigh Fermor's en-route romance. Eames' boyish enthusiasm for boats - even the rusty barge whose crew he joins - is infectious. Honesty and integrity imbue this epic adventure, and his admitted low-point in Budapest, where he thought he should have been so inspired, is as engaging as his heroic last miles rowing an old tub to the ultimate shores of the Black Sea.