On my feet again, I explored the abandoned silver mines in the canyon walls, found a few sticks of dynamite but no caps or fuses. He called for help. Even after years of intimate contact and search this quality of strangeness in the desert remains undiminished. And each pebble, formerly so dull and sun-bleached, now shone like a jewel. Although differences of opinion have been known to occur, open violence is rare, for these men treat one another with courtesy and respect. When rain arrives, threatening their ability to exit via the rock path, Waterman gives up his hope for asylum, and they leave in a hurry. Descend to the alkali flats of Salt Valley and you find an entirely different grouping: shadscale, four-winged saltbush, greasewood, spiny horsebrush, asters, milk vetch, budsage, galletagrass. Afterwards I hoist the Stars and Stripes to the top of the flagpole up at the entrance station. Notice the terminology. Something about trans-substantiation, con-substantiation and whether or not infants are damned at birth or not until later. Come on, Moon-Eye, I want to take you home. But as I came up with the others, Viviano, grinning through his dusty face, yelled at me: Around the bend, only nine son of bitch more, we get the Jesus Christ out of here.. This will be our only glimpse of a weird area that is sure to be, someday, another national park complete with police, administrators, paved highways, automobile nature trails, official scenic viewpoints, designated campgrounds, Laundromats, cafeterias, Coke machines, flush toilets and admission fees. While the bacon broils above the coals I crack eggs in a skillet five eggs add slices of green chile and scramble. Because, I explain. All alone, I didnt have to be brave. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis. Around noon the heat waves begin flowing upward from the expanses of sand and bare rock. Because no one else will if I dont and. I stepped forward again, pushing under the branches. Venus. As the weather improves so does the terrain. Yet their song, if not a mating call or a warning, must be what it sounds like, a brooding meditation on space, on solitude. The snake is passive, apparently contented, and makes no resistance when I pick him up with my hands and drape him over an arm or around my neck. The survey crew had done their job; I would do mine. Compared to ants the hairy scorpion is a beast of charm, dignity and tenderness. A low gray ceiling of clouds hangs over the desert from horizon to horizon, silent and still. Below are study questions for almost all chapters of Desert Solitaire. To die in the open, under the sky, far from the insolent interference of leech and priest, before this desert vastness opening like a window onto eternity that surely was an overwhelming stroke of rare good luck. There are interesting differences, of course, both in kind and degree between the plight of the Navajo Indians and that of their brothers-in-poverty around the world. Nevertheless I will feel their presence watching over me like totemic deities, keeping the rattlesnakes far back in the brush where I like them best, cropping off the surplus mouse population, maintaining useful connections with the primeval. If there are midget rattlers in the area there may be diamondbacks too five, six or seven feet long, thick as a mans wrist, dangerous. Not for long; once they rediscover the pleasures of actually operating their own limbs and senses in a varied, spontaneous, voluntary style, they will complain instead of crawling back into a car; they may even object to returning to desk and office and that dry-wall box on Mossy Brook Circle. Viviano took one, I took the other, while Roy stayed with the bunch we already had. No, not quite that smooth. Like a fire ignited in the spring, smoldering through the terrible summer, my desert world flares up briefly and brilliantly before the coming of cold and snow, the ashy winter, for the last time this season. Most of them. A face that watched me from the other side. I come to a fork in the canyon, the main branch continuing to the right, a deep dark narrow defile opening to the left. What do you think of that?. But they are not adequate for the task. (Sunset and moonrise, moaning winds and stillness, cloud transformations, the metamorphosis of sunlight, yellowing leaf and the indolent, soaring vulture), Who am I to pity the degradation and misery of my fellow citizens? Another kind of music sometimes fills the early hours. Belly-deep in the soup, willing to give up, she neither struggled nor bellowed. The wicked rabbit is dead. Im just starting up to investigate the ridge when Waterman appears, tracking me up the canyon floor. Along the washes and the rare perennial streams youll find a third community: the Fremont poplar or Cottonwood tree, willow, tamarisk, rabbitbrush or, So much for the inventory. I used to think that somewhere in the American Southwest, impossible to say exactly where, all of these wonders which intrigue the spirit would converge upon a climax and resolution. Like certain aspects of this music, the desert is also a-tonal, cruel, clear, inhuman, neither romantic nor classical, motionless and emotionless, at one and the same time another paradox both agonized and deeply still. Mackie turned his horse up the main trail along the stream and I followed, thinking. In future scenes, Abbey will use the uniquely human problem of naming things to highlight languages shortcomings. Other voices also speak: queer squawks and honkings from the thickets, sounds we cannot identify until we see, a little later, a great blue heron flap its wings among the lavender plumes of a tamarisk tree. In these hours and days of dual solitude on the river we hope to discover something quite different, to renew our affection for ourselves and the human kind in general by a temporary, legal separation from the mass. Were in perfect agreement. Sold. In this wilderness of naked rock burnt to auburn or buff or red by ancient fires there is no vision more pleasing to the eyes and more gratifying to the heart than the translucent acid green (bright gold in autumn) of this venerable tree. Where once a few adventurous people came on weekends to camp for a night or two and enjoy a taste of the primitive and remote, you will now find serpentine streams of baroque automobiles pouring in and out, all through the spring and summer, in numbers that would have seemed fantastic when I worked there: from 3,000 to 30,000 to 300,000 per year, the visitation, as they call it, mounts ever upward. We are compelled to make three portages in succession, the distance being less than three fourths of a mile, with a fall of 75 feet. Theres a horse living up that canyon, I announced; a wild horse. In the technical sense of the mountaineer not a. I can hear the pikas all around me signaling each other with their whistles but never catch a glimpse of one. Three ravens are wheeling near the balanced rock, squawking at each other and at the dawn. Not that I could tell. No end of blessings from heaven and earth. Old Roy had something on his mind. He looked like part of that burnt-out landscape. My head felt hot, damp, feverish. In my book a pioneer is a man who comes to virgin country, traps off all the fur, kills off all the wild meat, cuts down all the trees, grazes off all the grass, plows the roots up and strings ten million miles of wire. I recognize that when and where they serve purposes of mine they do so for beautifully selfish reasons of their own. A bat came through one window and went out another, followed by a second firefly (the first scooped up by the bat) and a host of mosquitoes, which did not leave. I can outrun you if I have to. My feet are wet and cold. This canyon, like all the others, forks again and again; I keep to the right-hand branch each time and finally arrive at a dead end, a box, with unscalable walls rising three, four, five hundred feet straight up toward the hot blue sky. Excellent. Ask rather, is there intelligent life on earth? Billy-Joe watched the flood surge toward him, saw the light shine on the roiling tomato-red waters. What happened here? Once in the shade we can rest, expand, unsquint our eyes, and see. He did that and then I could reach him. Mrs. Husk survived, even after the remains of her husband and her lover were found, and with her two little daughters went back home to Texas. Complete your free account to access notes and highlights. I began to cry. I was thirsty though and looked around for the canteen before remembering where Id left it; I could see it down in the wash, near the horse. Here too a stream is flowing, much smaller than the other, through smoothly sculptured grooves, scoops and potholes in the rock. Now, after the recent rains, which were also responsible for the amazing growth of grass and flowers we have seen, we find the trail marvelously eroded, stripped of all vestiges of soil, trenched and gullied down to bare rock, in places more like a stairway than a road. I am content, however, to view the remains from below. But none were there to see and hear except the local lizards, mice and ground squirrels, and perhaps a pair of outraged, astonished ravens. Or maybe who can be sure? Once people are liberated from the confines of automobiles there will be a greatly increased interest in hiking, exploring, and back-country packtrips. Not so. We paddle our double craft into the current, ship paddles, lean back against the stern seats, which make good backrests and nothing much else, and smoke and talk. While watching the tire bounce over tall pine trees, tear hell out of a mule train and disappear with a final grand leap into the inner gorge, I overheard the park ranger standing nearby say a few words about a place called Havasu, or Havasupai. Goddamn son of bitch cow!. Burdened only with canteen, a stick and a lunch of raisins and chipped beef I march up the firm wet sand of the canyon floor, reading the register: many deer, one coyote, the three-toed track of a big bird, many killdeer or sandpipers, many lizards, the winding trail of a snake, no cattle, no horses, no people. And therefore crawled on over the rocks under the desert sun. Not so hostile as the snowy peaks, nor so broad and bland as the oceans surface, it lies open given adequate preparation to leisurely exploration, to extended periods of habitation. The dry wash, dry gulch. Cold as a tomb, a jail, a cave; I lie down on the dusty floor, on the cold linoleum sprinkled with mouse turds, and light the pilot on the butane heater. I walk the single main street as dazed by the noise and neon as a country boy on his first visit to Times Square. Abbey displays disdain for the way industrialization is impacting the American wilderness. I thought so, he says; that explains it. The drop-off over the white rim is too far for our rope but about a mile to the east we find a break in the caprock where we can descend to the dark-red stratum below. Johnny and I wait in the shade of the truck. You can read the details below. No matter. All night long we thrashed the matter out, burning up half a pinyon pine in the process, transforming its mass into energy, warmth, light, and toward morning worked out a rough agreement. MichaelDecker55. I would have plenty of time to write not only my epitaph but my own elegy. The first thing I did was take off my pants. Above us was the green canopy of the cottonwood tree filtering the light to a tolerable dimness. At Topocoba on the rim of the canyon the temperature was a tolerable ninety-six degrees but it rose about one degree for each mile on and downward. Their manner of life was constricted, conservative, cautious; perhaps only the pervading fear could keep such a community together. But well eat good when we get back.. he asks. The nighthawks, sparse in numbers earlier, have gone away completely. Check my hands: not a trace of blood. No wonder the Authorities are so anxious to smother the wilderness under asphalt and reservoirs. Was he real or only a bad dream? According to reputation there are still a few mountain lions in the Sierra La Sal, ranging through from time to time, and possibly even bear, but its not my kind of luck today to find their tracks. Walking up the Escalante is like penetrating a surrealist corridor in a Tamayo dream: all is curved and rounded, the course of the mainstream and canyon as indirect as a sidewinder, winding upon itself like the intestines of a giant. And how could they hope to find this treasure which has no name and has never been seen? Can learn, at least, the smell of things associated with water the unique and heartening odor of the cottonwood tree, for example, which in the canyonlands is the tree of life. Hopefully I look for sign of bobcat or coyote but find none. Impossible to outflank these meanders, for they swing hard against and undercut the cliff first on one side and then the other. It is my duty as a park ranger to protect, preserve and defend all living things within the park boundaries, making no exceptions. Some of the native Utahns also made money, particularly the ones shrewd enough the moment the boom took off to hustle out into the boondocks and stake claims on everything in sight. Farther on a pair of mule deer started from the brush and bounded obliquely through the beams of my lights, raising puffs of dust which the wind, moving faster than my pickup truck, caught and carried ahead of me out of sight into the dark. You might think, beginning to die of thirst, that any water however salty would be better than none at all. Invisible but tangible as music is the passion which joins them sexual? Climbing higher, I enter by degrees into the Hudsonian life zone, leaving behind the Canadian with its aspen and Douglas fir, and find myself in the dark cool depths of the silver fir and spruce forest. of our dreamlike voyage. Finally, in this discussion of water in the desert, I should make note of a distinctive human contribution, one which has become a part of the Southwestern landscape no less typical than the giant cactus, the juniper growing out of solid rock or the red walls of a Navajo canyon. Thirst was getting to me. But the joke still points to an important truth about how words distort the world: Abbey laments that since language is human-made, when people use it to describe or understand nature, they are in fact defeating natures nonhuman essence. Words say more about the people who use them than about the reality these people want to describejust like Abbeys mock-arrogant name for his summer home. Now he was hungry. Suppose for example that we can find a certain resemblance between the music of Bach and the sea; the music of Debussy and a forest glade; the music of Beethoven and (of course) great mountains; then who has written of the desert? No doubt. Like myself, they stay in the shade as much as possible. The royalties from the sale of oil, uranium, coal and natural gas, while hardly enough to relieve the Indians general poverty, have enabled them to develop a tribal timber business, to provide a few college scholarships for the brainiest (not necessarily the best) of their young people, to build community centers and finance an annual tribal fair (a source of much enjoyment to The People), and to drill a useful number of water wells for the benefit of the old sheep and goat raising families still hanging on in the backlands. The essence of the juniper continues to elude me unless, as I presently suspect, its surface is also the essence. While out on a cattle mission one day, Abbey learns of Moon-Eye, a legendary wild horse whos been missing for 10 years. The clouds move off and rumble for a while in the distance. Each stone, each plant, each grain of sand exists in and for itself with a clarity that is undimmed by any suggestion of a different realm. We take a side track toward them and discover the remains of an ancient corral, old firepits, and a dozen tiny rivulets of water issuing from a thicket of tamarisk and willow on the canyon wall. A second important difference in the situation of the Navajo Indians from that of others sunk in poverty is that the Navajos still have a home of their own the reservation, collective property of the tribe as a whole. Zion National Park. Merle the super, the boss, is a slender, graceful man of about fifty years, with a fine, grave, expressive face toughened though not hardened by a life spent mostly out-of-doors. When the A.E.C.s ten-year guarantee ran out most of the independents went out with it out of business. Why did I not. Free shipping for many products! They're like having in-class notes for every discussion!, This is absolutely THE best teacher resource I have ever purchased. 4. At times, almost beneath us, the river stirs with sudden odd uproars as the silty bed below alters in its conformations. Its foolish and unfair to impute to the doves, with serious concerns of their own, an interest in questions more appropriate to their human kin. When they come, as they soon will, well see a resurgence of hairy green across the land the succulent scratchy allergenic tumbleweed, that exotic import from the Mongolian steppes. Then theres this silver badge Im supposed to pin to the shirt. The yucca is bizarre not only in appearance but in its mode of reproduction. The young are more adaptable and under the pressure to survive may learn to turn tricks for the tourist trade. I roll out of the bag, make sure the boats are still securely tied to the willows, and am about to wake up Ralph. Cobwebs complete with black widow spiders adorn the darker corners under the ceiling. Dont you have any sense at all?. With good reason; they had much to be fearful of, the swine. Imagine the effort required to inscribe, say, the figure of a dancer, with no tool but a flint chisel and in such a way as to make it last five hundred years. But dont get discouraged, comrades Christ failed too. To keep them out of the canteen I had to place a handkerchief over the opening as I filled it. That was the story of Moon-Eye. Abbey comes upon a dry wash crossing with a sign that warns not to cross (read more from the Chapter 1 The First Morning Summary). Creating notes and highlights requires a free LitCharts account. Most of the cowboys I know are out of work or about to lose their jobs or doing something else. We were in the mouth of the canyon. Many of the junipers the females are covered with showers of light-blue berries, that hard bitter fruit with the flavor of gin. Easy boy, easy now. What I have tried to do then is something a bit different. Closing in on the beach, I jump out and wade ashore, towing the boats onto the sand. Saturday and Sunday are my busy days as I deal with the influx of weekend visitors and campers, answering questions, pulling cars out of the sand, lowering children down off the rocks, tracking lost grandfathers and investigating picnics. Why do they sing? Will I be the same? Having nearly exterminated their natural enemies, the wildlife experts made it possible for the porcupines to multiply so fast and so far that they the porcupines have taken to gnawing the bark from pinyon pines in order to survive. For without such protection the area would soon be picked clean by souvenir hunters, acquisitive rockhounds and the commercial merchandisers of stones. No matter, its of slight importance. If no one is looking for you write your will in the sand and let the wind carry your last words and signature east to the borders of Colorado and south to the pillars of Monument Valley someday, never fear, your bare elegant bones will be discovered and wondered and marveled at. Of course its dusty this is Utah! Grandeur, color, spaciousness, the power of the ancient and elemental, that which lies beyond the ability of man to wholly grasp or utilize, these qualities all three share. Descending the mountain we enter by degrees into a friendlier, more comfortable, more human environment forest, rushing streams, sunny meadows and soon hear the cowbells, see the villages and roads, all that is familiar and reassuring. Put them to work. Inventory. He saw the tree lodged against his landing dock and what resembled a shriveled human figure attached to the trunk of it. What did I have to lose? Quartzite. An owl. Merely opinion, of course. Learn faster and smarter from top experts, Download to take your learnings offline and on the go. The area around Moab in that period was still a wilderness habitat and largely undeveloped, with only small numbers of park visitors and limited access to most areas of the monument. In all those years of feverish struggle, buying and selling, cheating and swindling, isolation, loneliness, hardship, danger, sudden fortune and sudden disaster, there is one question about this search for the radiant treasure the hidden splendor which nobody ever asked. After a while he let his head drop back against his saddle and closed his eyes. (. Absorbed in these thoughts, wind in my eyes, I round a corner of the cliff and theres a doe and her fawn not ten yards away, browsing on the cliffrose. Houston etc. The fear born of nightmares, the nightmares that rise from fear? The cattlegrowing industry like almost everything else has been mechanized and automated. A bunch of cattle in the road. Time and the winds will sooner or later bury the Seven Cities of Cibola Phoenix, Tucson, Albuquerque, all of them under dunes of glowing sand, over which blue-eyed Navajo bedouin will herd their sheep and horses, following the river in winter, the mountains in summer, and sometimes striking off across the desert toward the red canyons of Utah where great waterfalls plunge over silt-filled, ancient, mysterious dams. He could not live anymore and after three days even the strongest of the doctors let him go. I dont want. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless. But he wants others to have the same freedom. It is not impossible that our man might have stumbled off the edge in the dark, or even spellbound by that fulfillment of nothingness eased himself over, deliberately, in broad daylight, drawn into the void by the beauty and power of his own terror? Resting, I listen to the deep dead stillness of the canyon. Here, the legendary author of The Monkey Wrench Gang, Abbey's Road and many other critically acclaimed books vividly captures the essence of his life during three seasons as a park ranger in southeastern Utah. We camp the first night in the Green River Desert, just a few miles off the Hanksville road, rise early and head east, into the dawn, through the desert toward the hidden river. This scenesoon to be followed up with Abbeys interactions with other creaturesis an important part of his argument that human beings are equal rather than superior to nature, and so they ought to be less arrogant. Why no fences? We need more coyotes, more mountain lions, more wolves and foxes and wildcats, more owls, hawks and eagles. Not content with shooting coyotes from airplanes and hunting lions with dogs, these bounty hunters, self-styled sportsmen, and government agents like to plant poisoned meat all over the landscape, distribute tons of poisoned tallow balls by air, and hide baited cyanide guns in the ground and brush a threat to humans as well as animals. Begin flowing upward from the confines of automobiles there will be a greatly increased in. Are wheeling near the balanced rock, squawking at each other and at the entrance station belly-deep in the of! Of desert Solitaire cobwebs complete with black widow spiders adorn the darker corners under the ceiling them out work. The silty bed below alters in its mode of reproduction that any water salty! Potholes in the shade as much as possible from below and reservoirs are! Not a trace of blood as music is the passion which joins them sexual swing hard against and the... 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