desert solitaire the first morningdesert solitaire the first morning

Dawn winds are driving streamers of snow off the peaks of the Sierra La Sal and old man Tukuhnikivats, mightiest of mountains in the land of Moab, will soon be stripped bare to the granite if this wind doesnt stop. Nothing so extensive or spectacular as the deposits in Petrified Forest National Park, to be sure, but interesting and beautiful just the same. But where I stand the storm is only beginning. Soon after the organized search began he was spotted from the air and promptly rescued. With fingertip I write my own signature in the sand to let him know, to tip him off; I take a drink of water and leave. Summer down here. I hesitated. Away with the old, in with the new. In the evening of that first day below the falls I lay down to sleep in the cabin. You ought to get out of this heat, I told myself, taking a drink from the canteen. he said. We pass sandbars where stands of white-plumed cane and the lacy blossoms of young tamarisk wave in the breeze among driftwood logs aged to a silver finish by sun and wind and water. Here, the legendary author of The Monkey Wrench Gang, Abbey's Road and many. The hawks appear most frequently and most briefly, gliding overhead on some invisible stream in the air. I turn off the main dirt road and take one narrower, rougher, with a high grass-grown center, drive through a meadow where the golden eyes of more deer gleam in my headlights, and enter groves of quaking aspen, tall straight slim trees with bark as white as that of birches, easy to cut with a knife, much in favor among sheepherders, hunters, lovers. The originals are nearly gone and will soon be lost forever in the overwhelming crowd. Once freed of distracting, human-made language, Abbey hopes to become closer with the earth. Seared by the everlasting sunfire, I want to see running water again, embrace a pine tree, cut my initials in the bark of an aspen, get bit by a mosquito, see a mountain bluebird, find a big blue columbine, get lost in the firs, hike above timberline, sunbathe on snow and eat some ice, climb the rocks and stand in the wind at the top of the world on the peak of Tukuhnikivats. Aye, but the voyage is not over shouldnt mention these things. Theres a girl back in Denver. I listen closely for the call of an owl, a dove, a nighthawk, but can hear only the crackle of my fire, a breath of wind. I slid from the saddle and led my pony to the east side of the nearest boulder and tied him. Standing by the side of this, we can see the grove at the entrance. From that point he could see the juniper with its promise of shade. On my first walk down into Havasupai Canyon, which is a branch of the Grand Canyon, never mind exactly where, I took with me only a quart of water, thinking that would be enough for a mere fourteen-mile downhill hike on a warm day in August. He only curls up tighter in the sack; he doesnt want to go home. The afternoon sun falls lower; above the mountains and the ragged black clouds hangs the new moon, pale fragment of what is to come; in another hour, at sundown, Venus too will be there, planet of love, to glow bright as chromium down on the western sky. Most readers, while generally sympathetic to this latter point of view, will feel, as do the administrators of the National Park Service, that although wilderness is a fine thing, certain compromises and adjustments are necessary in order to meet the ever-expanding demand for outdoor recreation. One might as well argue that science, meaning technology, has actually reduced the average mans life expectancy to about fifteen minutes the time it takes an ICBM to cover the distance between the U.S.S.R. and the U.S.A. He comes alongside. Face down or face up? Three ravens are wheeling near the balanced rock, squawking at each other and at the dawn. It appears that you have an ad-blocker running. I dont know, mister. Even offer to bring him supplies at regular times, and the news, and anything else he might need. A veil of dust floats above the sneaky snaky old road from here to the highway, drifting gently downwind to settle upon the blades of the yucca, the mustard-yellow rabbitbrush, the petals of the asters and autumn sunflowers, the umbrella-shaped clumps of blooming wild buckwheat. The wind blows sand in my teeth but also brings the scent of flowering cliffrose and a hint of mountain snow, more than adequate compensation. Approaching the spring you notice a sulfurous stink in the air though the water itself, neither warm nor cold, looks clear and drinkable. on September 7, 2010, " Desert solitaire was first published in 1968"--P. [4] of cover, There are no reviews yet. Some of my liberalized friends regard the LDS with disdain; they see in the Church only a bastion of sectarian foolishness and political reaction and in its adherents a voting bloc of Know-Nothings, racially prejudiced, religiously bigoted, opposed alike to the graduated income tax, the United Nations, urban renewal, foreign aid, legislative reapportionment, public welfare, Medicare and even free lunches for schoolchildren actually or potentially a rabble of John Birchers. The air is clean, the rock cuts cruelly into flesh; shatter the rock and the odor of flint rises to your nostrils, bitter and sharp. The horse stood not under the tree the juniper was not big enough for that but within it, among its branches. 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. Specifically, his search for a wild horse in the canyons (The Moon-Eyed Horse), his camping around the Havasupai tribal lands and his temporary entrapment on a cliff face there (Havasu), the discovery of a dead tourist at an isolated area of what is now Canyonlands National Park (The Dead Man at Grandview Point), his attempt to navigate the Maza area of the Canyonlands National Park (Terra Incognita: Into the Maze), and his ascent of Mount Tukuhnikivats (Tukuhnikivats, the Island in the Desert) are recounted. And probably the last. Billy-Joe waded through the mud, went down on his belly, cleared the slime from the surface of the water and drank. He didnt even smell like a horse, didnt seem to have any smell about him at all. By Labor Day, Abbey discovers that the tourists he hates so much are not so bad. Endless, too, Im beginning to feel, before I see at long last the glimmer of coals ahead, the embers of a fire, and in the dimness the Outline of the rubber boats, a comforting sight. It signifies water, and not only water but also shade, in a country where shelter from the sun is sometimes almost as precious as water. In this awful place He watched me and listened. But none were there to see and hear except the local lizards, mice and ground squirrels, and perhaps a pair of outraged, astonished ravens. When we reached Salt Creek we stopped to water the horses. Certainly in Salt Lake City itself there is no lack of intriguing social problems air pollution, traffic jams, angry adolescents, babies born from sinlock and all the rest of it and very soon the Latter-Day Saints will be forced to confront directly the symptoms of discontent and desperation with which most Americans are now familiar: from LDS to LSD. The massive forms jostle and grate, ions collide, and the sound of thunder is heard over the sun-drenched land. Why anyone with any sense would volunteer to spend August in the furnace of the desert is a mystery to me; they must be mad, these brave tourists, as I am mad. Like it or not I am on my way: It does not, after all, sound unpromising. 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. Love flowers best in openness and freedom. We stop, consult our maps, and take the older road; the new one has probably been made by some oil exploration outfit. Overlay the nation with a finely reticulated network of communications, airlines and interstate. The desert, however, has been relatively neglected. THIS IS YOUR NATIONAL PARK, ESTABLISHED FOR THE PLEASURE OF YOU AND ALL PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. I knew that I was dealing with a madman. Sunsets each evening that test a mans credulity great gory improvisations in scarlet and gold that remind me of nothing so much as Gods own celestial pizza pies. When late in the afternoon I finally stumbled sun-dazed, blear-eyed, parched as an old bacon rind upon that blue stream which flows like a miraculous mirage down the floor of the canyon I was too exhausted to pause and drink soberly from the bank. But why should I disturb them further? (One leap and he was in the saddle; five beers and he was on the floor.) Mount Ellsworth, one of the lower peaks, is the one we see, rising sharp and craggy against the sky, a laccolithic dome of varicolored sedimentary and igneous rock (part of the intrusion now exposed by erosion) furred over with a growth of pinyon pine, juniper and jackpine at the highest elevations. Sand sage or old man sage, a lustrous windblown blend of silver and blue and aquamarine, gleams in the distance, the feathery stems flowing like hair. Why do they sing? The Park Service, established by Congress in 1916, was directed not only to administer the parks but also to provide for the enjoyment of same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations. This appropriately ambiguous language, employed long before the onslaught of the automobile, has been understood in various and often opposing ways ever since. Loveliest of all, however, gay and sweet as a pretty girl, with a fragrance like that of orange blossoms, is the cliffrose. The badge gives me the authority to arrest malefactors and evildoers, Floyd explains. Once people are liberated from the confines of automobiles there will be a greatly increased interest in hiking, exploring, and back-country packtrips. During the middle of the day they rested in whatever shade they could find under an overhang or juniper, sometimes under the truck itself and in the evenings went painfully down to the stream to wash up a little and lug cans of water back up the trail. filling my canteen. After such a lengthy listing of plant life the reader may now be visualizing Arches National Monument as more a jungle than a desert. If you make it head north six miles past Elaterite Butte to Big Water Spring should be water there, though this time of year you cant always be certain. Standing there, gaping at this monstrous and inhuman spectacle of rock and cloud and sky and space, I feel a ridiculous greed and possessiveness come over me. It will be objected that the book deals too much with mere appearances, with the surface of things, and fails to engage and reveal the patterns of unifying relationships which form the true underlying reality of existence. But since I stopped abruptly and froze, she isnt sure that I am dangerous. Well, Ranger Abbey, says Merle, how do you like it out here in the middle of nowhere?. Has joy any survival value in the operations of evolution? Into the green lagoon for a bath and a swim and then Ralph baits a hook with the reliable rotten salami, I build a campfire in the shade and fill the skillet with grease, and once again we dine on channel cat delicious fish! Since we have missed Music Temple I am more determined than ever that we must not pass Forbidden Canyon and the trail to Rainbow Bridge, climax and culmination of any trip into Glen Canyon. One oclock by the sun and not a cloud in the sky: hot. (Theres a girl there, one of the paying guests.) We go on, past the old cabin at French Spring and through the woods and past the flowery meadows now gray beneath a mist of snow and rain. Late in the afternoon I realized that I would not have enough time to get back to my camp before dark, unless I could find a much shorter route than the one by which I had come. But youre not clever, youre stupid, I reminded myself: stick to the plan. Within that time he and his men withstood a variety of unpleasant experiences, including the loss of a boat, the hard toil of lowering their boats by rope down the worst of the rapids, moldy flour and shortages of meat, extremes of heat and cold, illness, and the constant fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of success, the ever-present possibility that around the next bend of the canyon they might encounter hazards worse than any they had so far overcome. As the land rises the vegetation becomes richer, for the desert almost luxuriant: junipers appear, first as isolated individuals and then in stands, pinyon pines loaded with cones and vivid colonies of sunflowers, chamisa, golden beeweed, scarlet penstemon, skyrocket gilia (as we near 7000 feet), purple asters and a kind of yellow flax. He was a big horse and that moon-glazed eye was not comforting. Again I had to dismount and go in on foot, fighting my way through the brush and clouds of gnats and the vicious yellow-backed flies. Long enough in the desert a man like other animals can learn to smell water. The surface of the quicksand, which may look as firm as the wet sand on an ocean beach, begins to liquefy beneath his feet. In the meanwhile the desert people persist in some of their quaint and antiquated ways. By following the steps I have proposed, plus reducing the expenses of wilderness recreation to the minimal level. Whitney, highest point in the forty-eight United States, while multitudes of others wander on foot or on horseback through the ranges of the Sierras, the Rockies, the Big Smokies, the Cascades and the mountains of New England. As we went on I looked back and saw the holes the cow had made fill up and brim over with water, like suppurating sores. I am taken by the notion to experiment on the rabbit. "[20], The desert, he writes, represents a harsh reality unseen by the masses. While out on a cattle mission one day, Abbey learns of Moon-Eye, a legendary wild horse whos been missing for 10 years. PDF downloads of all 1715 LitCharts literature guides, and of every new one we publish. 6. The watersoaked, heavy boots dangling from my neck, swinging back and forth with my every movement, threw me off balance and I fell into the pool. We are kindred all of us, killer and victim, predator and prey, me and the sly coyote, the soaring buzzard, the elegant gopher snake, the trembling cottontail, the foul worms that feed on our entrails, all of them, all of us. Far away to the south I can see the headlights of a car or truck approaching Moab. But perhaps it is true. We may need it someday not only as a refuge from excessive industrialism but also as a refuge from authoritarian government, from political oppression. I put on dry socks and moccasins, and cook my supper: refried pinto beans with chile and a number of eggs, a potato baked in tinfoil. 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. Here we share our water supply and split up, Johnny hiking along the rim to the northwest and I taking the opposite way. A great thirst is a great joy when quenched in time. Or the frequently repeated figures of deer, beaver, bighorn sheep and other animals might represent the story of successful hunting parties. Now that all is finally ready I am overtaken by the insane compulsion to be gone, to be elsewhere, to go, to go. I hesitated; to get any closer Id have to push through the branches or stoop underneath them. With generous tact Ralph does not even ask for an explanation. As I am returning to the campground and the truck I see a young cottontail jump from the brush, scamper across the trail and freeze under a second bush. We see a few baldface cows, pass a corral and windmill, meet a rancher coming out in his pickup truck. Here he met his benefactor, a man known as Charles Chuck Graham. 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. I shuffled through the sand, over the rocks, around the prickly pear and the spiny hedgehog cactus. No doubt for the last time. Bald-faced as a bank clerk, I stood in front of a mirror this morning and tried on my only white shirt, recently starched. All three could easily be seen in a single day. The dull, painful creaking of the branches in the wind indicates, however, an internal effort at liberation. For example, in settling a given area they did not scatter themselves abroad over the landscape in isolated farms and ranches, each man for himself and the devil take the hindmost, but rather built small, rational, beautiful and durable towns in which all could live together, centered about the Church, which served not only as a religious center but also as a social and political focal point for the community (in this respect harking back to the model of New England). 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. Surely it is no accident that the most thorough of tyrannies appeared in Europes most thoroughly scientific and industrialized nation. These are sinister and supernatural figures, gods from the underworld perhaps, who hover in space, or dance, or stand solidly planted on two feet carrying weapons a club or sword. And just before that good eye is punctured youll see those black wings shutting off the sky, shutting out the sun, youll see a crooked yellow beak and a red neck crawling with lice and a pair of insane eyes looking into yours. He makes the acknowledgement that we came from the wilderness, we have lived by it, and we will return to it. A little wiser now, learning from experience, we do not battle the current but rest until we are close to the rapids, then with a sudden furious effort paddle into the backwash near the shore and have no trouble making a landing in the shallows. However, I keep my cowardly doubts to myself, waiting for Ralph to speak of them first. After six months in the desert I am volunteering for a winter of front-line combat duty caseworker, public warfare department in the howling streets of Megalomania, U.S.A. Mostly for the sake of private and selfish concerns, truly, but also for reasons of a more general nature. Some say he went to Ouray, Colorado, to work in a silver mine; some say he married Scobies cook, that white girl from Oklahoma, and they went to California; some say he went back to sheepherding; some say he went to Spain. Mr. Graham found a flashlight in the truck, also Husks rifle. I strip and lie back in the sun, high on Tukuhnikivats, with nothing between me and the universe but my thoughts. Although the buzzards for some reason have not discovered him two other scavengers, ravens, rise heavily and awkwardly from the corpse as we approach. The men managed to get ashore still alive. I walk the single main street as dazed by the noise and neon as a country boy on his first visit to Times Square. A wave of cooling relief like a breeze, like an actual movement of air, washed through the canyon. He was in favor of returning to nature and gaining the freedom that was lost with the inventions that take us places in this day and age: A man could be a lover and defender of the wilderness without ever in his lifetime leaving the boundaries of asphalt, power lines, and right-angled surfaces. He brought with him his young and pleasant-looking (if somewhat thin and anxious) second wife, his eleven-year-old son Billy-Joe, and two little girls younger than the boy. Next, these here Arches light them up. The next morning, after watching his first, breathtaking sunrise, Abbey wonders whether appearances equal reality. Disappointing; but there was nothing in that area anyway that required blowing up. He was alone. Munching pinyon nuts fresh from the trees nearby, we fill the fuel tank and cache the empty jerrycan, also a full one, in the bushes. Weve run our first rapids and are still alive. Like the porcupine the deer too become victims of human meddling with the natural scheme of things not enough coyotes around and the mountain lions close to extinction, the deer have multiplied like rabbits and are eating themselves out of house and home, which means that many each year are condemned to a slow death by starvation. Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey begins in the area surrounding Moab, Utah. But the love of wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth, the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need if only we had the eyes to see. He provides readers with a useful manual on hydrating in emergencies. Put them to work. All blown up like he is, youd think hed float like a balloon., What about lunch? somebody asks; Im hungry., Whyd the bastard have to go so far from the road?, Theres something leaking out that zipper., Never mind, lets try to get in step here, the sheriff says. Another small gem in the park system, a group of three adjacent natural bridges tucked away in the canyon country of southern Utah. We return to where the others are waiting, gathered about the black bag on the stretcher, which the undertaker is in the act of zipping shut. Or thought they did. If you were really clever, I thought, youd go back to Moon-Eyes watering place on Salt Creek, wait for him there, catch him by starlight. As I sit there resting another loose object thunders by on my left, perhaps the same rock or part of it that I had started down with. Weve brought the rope with us, of course, and therefore will have to find a different route up to the rim, if there is one. Within a short distance we come to another big tributary canyon on the port side or southerly shore of the river. Wheres that rum we were going to bring along?, And the case of beer we were going to tow instead of a dinghy?. He decides this the day he arrives, after a long drive from Albuquerque to begin his summer job as a park ranger at Arches National Monument. What does it really mean? We stop, get out to reconnoiter. And why not? Or says he doesnt. Afterwards I put on hat and coat and go outside again, sit on the table, and watch the sky and the desert dissolve slowly into mystery under the chemistry of twilight. This follows from the interesting fact that a motorized vehicle, when not at rest, requires a volume of space far out of proportion to its size. It began as a dim toneless resonance in the distance, like the sound made by a train entering the far end of a very long tunnel. All the famous national parks have the same problems on a far grander scale, as everyone knows, and many other problems as yet unknown to a little subordinate unit of the system in a backward part of southeastern Utah. Hesitating, I realize that the cause of the high water is not what Id been half-consciously fearing all along, a flash flood from the world above us, but simply a strong wind blowing waves into the canyon from the river. And no wonder, for theres precious little fresh meat abroad. But were getting accustomed to sand sand in our food and drink, in our teeth and eyes and whiskers, in our bedrolls and underwear. Another kind of music sometimes fills the early hours. A dried-up tumbleweed comes over the rise from the north, dances past and sails into space above The Maze. I empty the garbage cans, read the discarded newspapers, sweep out the outhouses and disengage the Kleenex from the clutches of cliffrose and cactus. Depending on your preconceptions you may see the eroded remnant of a sandstone fin, a giant engagement ring cemented in rock, a bow-legged pair of petrified cowboy chaps, a triumphal arch for a procession of angels, an illogical geologic freak, a happening a something that happened and will never happen quite that way again, a frame more significant than its picture, a simple monolith eaten away by weather and time and soon to disintegrate into a chaos of falling rock (not surprisingly there have been some, even in the Park Service, who advocate spraying Delicate Arch with a fixative of some sort Elmers Glue perhaps or Lady Clairol Spray-Net). Despite Abbeys bitterness toward society, he admits that its humanitys false superioritynot individuals themselvesthat he hates. Or maybe who can be sure? The shade grows darker, the silence deeper; gracing the air is the subtle fragrance of sun-warmed, oozing resin. Deliberately, I was sure. Or, Life is but a dream. Lunch? 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