CALL me Ishmael, or don’t, it’s not really the point. What matters is that 173 years ago, under the romantic but impractical glow of candlelight, old Herman Melville, quill in hand, embarked on a literary journey that would leave a mark as enduring as the oil stains of a Land Rover on every driveway it parked. His opening volley in a gargantuan 200,000-word epic was as simple as it was profound. It wasn’t just about a bloke chasing a rather large, moody fish. No, it was the ultimate tale of obsession, a man versus nature saga, where Captain Ahab, that madman at the helm of the Pequod, throws caution to the ocean winds in his quest to nab Moby Dick, his own personal Mount Everest.
Fast forward to today, on the other side of the Pacific, Ian Stuck has been writing his own version of Melville’s epic. After toying with an array of leviathans from beefed-up Amaroks to
