Then there's Auckland teacher Ian D. Robinson's You Must Die Once (HarperCollins, $29.99) describing a pilgrimage to scatter the ashes of his Tibetan Bhuddist teacher on the sacred peak of Mt Kailas.
The two books reviewed below also involve fascinating quests.
The Shark God
by Charles Montgomery
(Fourth Estate, $36.99)
In 1892 a young Church of England Bishop, Henry Montgomery, set sail for the fearsome shores of Melanesia to see for himself how far the word of God had spread among its devil-worshipping people.
A century later his great-grandson, Canadian photo-journalist Charles Montgomery, heads for Melanesia to follow in the bishop's footsteps and see which side won the battle for local souls.
The result is a captivating journey through Vanuatu and Solomon, meeting locals, examining the condition of post-colonial society on their tiny islands and exploring the peculiar mix of myth, magic and religion governing their lives.
On the surface, Christianity won the battle, with almost all Melanesians now purporting to worship the God of Montgomery's great-grandfather. But looking more deeply, he finds that in many places Christianity has been co-opted into the service of traditional beliefs, or kastom, with saints and martyrs used to power curses or bring the rain.
Montgomery - Charles that is - explores the authority of this kastom, seeking out many of its practitioners. Most appear to be mere conjurers, unwilling or unable to demonstrate their claimed powers.
But he also has experiences which appear to go beyond that. High on the hills of New Georgia, in the Solomons, he blew across the devilstone Nonotongere, despite promising the local chief not to, and seemed to unleash a storm.
And on the strife-torn island of Guadalcanal, he meets Brother Francis, of the Christian Melanesian brotherhood, who walks willingly to martyrdom at the hands of rebellious warlord Harold Keke, in so doing creating the conditions for the present uneasy peace.
Is all that true? the sceptical reader asks. It doesn't matter, replies Montgomery, because myths have powers that transcend reality.
"Regardless of what really happened ... Brother Francis's myth had begun its journey, and if we told it well it would grow through the decades until it was unquestionably true in its transforming power ... The story itself would be the miracle."
It's a marvellous piece of work that will surely make anyone who reads it want to follow the path of the two Montgomerys to see these fascinating islands for themselves.
The Long March
by Ed Jocelyn and Andrew McEwen
(Constable & Robinson, $32.95)
Another great example of the enduring power of the myth is the legendary Long March, which helped lay the foundation for Mao Zedong's conquest of China.
On the one hand, when Jung Chang and John Halliday sought to discredit the Chinese leader in their book Mao: The Unknown Story they went to great lengths to try to prove that the story of the march was largely made up.
On the other hand, when journalists Ed Jocelyn and Andrew McEwen decided to retrace the route on foot they found the Chinese media scared to mention anything that might be seen to undermine the myth, such as their discovery that the distance was less than the legend claims, although still a mighty 6035km.
After spending 384 days trudging in the footsteps of the Red Army, meeting ancient locals who remember its passing, finding mementoes left by the soldiers, and locating countless memorials, Jocelyn and McEwen concluded that while Mao's role and the distance covered were exaggerated, the march was nevertheless a remarkable feat.
Also remarkable, one might add, was the feat of the two journalists in overcoming sickness and hunger, appalling weather and primitive conditions, obstruction by officials and lousy maps, to complete their trek.
I don't think they succeed in bringing to life the drama of the original march or their own journey, but they do paint an intriguing picture of the sort of China that Westerners can find if they get off the tourist buses and out of the tourist cities to where the ordinary people are.
