desert solitaire the first morning

If I look at the small device strapped to my wrist the numbers, even the sweeping second hand, seem meaningless, almost ridiculous. 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. The first thing weve got to do is find water. Unlike Thoreau who insisted on one world at a time I am attempting to make the best of two. Desert Solitaire is Edward Abbeys memoir of a summer spent in 1956, 10 years prior to writing the book, as a park ranger in Arches National Monument near Moab, Utah. Our life on earth is but the shadow of a higher life, I could tell him. This would be good country, a tourist says to me, if only you had some water., If we had water here, I reply, this country would not be what it is. Geologic resource evaluation report /, Epitaph for a desert anarchist : the life and legacy of Edward Abbey /, The geologic story of Arches National Park /, http://pi.lib.uchicago.edu/1001/cat/bib/4387113, The Heat of Noon: Rock and Tree and Cloud, Polemic: Industrial Tourism and The National Parks. he said. My visitor is still waiting beneath the doorstep, basking in the sun, fully alert. Worst of all he skimps on food. At the upper end there is a clear, deep pool of water, bordered with verdure. I check the garbage can for trapped chipmunks, pick up a few bottlecaps, and inspect the sanitary facilities, where all appears to be in good order: roll of paper, can of lime, black widow spiders dangling in their usual strategic corners. A fact. He will understand what the captive Zia Indians meant when they made a song out of their sickness for home: Down the river. This is comfort. Although we still have plenty of water in the Land Rover we are mighty glad to see it. Plus a discovery bonus of ten thousand dollars. Back to camp. The slickrock desert. Since I have no tennis shoes I take off the boots and sling them over my shoulder, proceeding barefoot. Here we float ashore and camp for the night. Suddenly it comes, the flaming globe, blazing on the pinnacles and minarets and balanced rocks, on the canyon walls and through the windows in the sandstone fins. Hard to say and yet, when they found it, they could not fail to recognize it. You are doomed., Lets drink to that. Fear no more the heat of the sun. He was a giant about seventeen hands high, with a buckskin hide as faded as an old rug and a big ugly coffin-shaped head. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless. Bald-faced as a bank clerk, I stood in front of a mirror this morning and tried on my only white shirt, recently starched. The descent is four miles long, in vertical distance about two thousand feet. Whos going to carry it?, Ill carry it, he says cheerfully, through a magnificent, sandy beard; you can carry the water.. Hes been up in that canyon for ten years., No. Or by God there might be trouble. Take about twenty gallons extra. His long yellow fingers, holding a cigarette, trembled. I know exactly where I want to camp tonight and will keep driving till I get there. Many of the ideas and themes drawn out in the book are contradictory. There were a few loose stones scattered about the edge of the pool. 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. Not so much in the vast formations of sandstone which bulk largest in the landscape but at odd, irregular places where clays, shales and mudstones appear. A face that watched me from the other side. And we smell, I suppose, like catfish. If we can climb the ridge to the maroon bench above the Cutler, we might be able to traverse laterally to the opening in the white rim through which we had originally descended. One bird, however, is singing, if you could call it singing. ( Desert Solitaire, p. x) A chapter titled "The First Morning" describes Abbey's arrival at Arches at the beginning of April. He turns around and walks back. Encourage or at least fail to discourage population growth. I walk out onto a point from which I can look down at the river, nearly straight below. He gripped my wrist and I gripped his and with a slow steady pull I got him out of there. Scobies irrational phobias blind him to this basic truth. This park will be difficult to protect under heavy visitation, and for years it was understood that it would be preserved in a primitive way so as to screen out those tourists unwilling to drive their cars over some twenty miles of dirt road. 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. A few bats flicker through the air near the ramada making tiny clicking noises sonar. I hear and see a few birds woodpecker, flicker, bluejay, phainopepla but no sign of any animal life except squirrel and deer. All night long the wind has been blowing, haunting my dreams with intimations of disaster, and in the east above the rim and mountains are salmon-colored clouds whipped into long, sleek, fishlike shapes by the wind. I was too hot and tired at first even to care about food or water. And there is the Water Carrier, the Sea Goat, the Ram, the Whale and last, least and most obscure Musca the Fly, about halfway between Aries and the Pleiades, hard to see, scorned by the astrologers, neglected by all but me, a tiny group so far away that they may be already extinct, dead, extinguished, reminding us only by these last dim signals of their former existence. This drop-off was about the same height as the one before, but not overhanging. They roll up incredible mileages on their odometers, rack up state after state in two-week transcontinental motor marathons, knock off one national park after another, take millions of square yards of photographs, and endure patiently the most prolonged discomforts: the tedious traffic jams, the awful food of park cafeterias and roadside eateries, the nocturnal search for a place to sleep or camp, the dreary routine of One-Stop Service, the endless lines of creeping traffic, the smell of exhaust fumes, the ever-proliferating Rules & Regulations, the fees and the bills and the service charges, the boiling radiator and the flat tire and the vapor lock, the surly retorts of room clerks and traffic cops, the incessant jostling of the anxious crowds, the irritation and restlessness of their children, the worry of their wives, and the long drive home at night in a stream of racing cars against the lights of another stream racing in the opposite direction, passing now and then the obscure tangle, the shattered glass, the patrolmans lurid blinker light, of one more wreck. And is the evolutionary line from protozoan to Spinoza any less certain? Finally the moon came up, a golden globe behind the rocky fretwork of the horizon, a full and delicate moon that floated lightly as a leaf upon the dark slow current of the night. Ive got a big pot of pinto beans simmering on the stove. After the storms pass and the flash floods have dumped their loads of silt into the Colorado, leaving the streambeds as arid as they were before, it is still possible to find rainwater in the desert. After sharing a meal together, the men leave, and Abbey is struck by how isolated he feels in his solitary lifestyle as a park ranger. He vows not to apply human-centric language to nature, hoping to bring himself closer to it and to understand its mysteries more clearly. The repeated wading of the stream seems doubly tiring now, especially as the boots become watersoaked and layered with quicksand. Somebodys goddamned cows, Scobies perhaps or McKees, I cant see the brand, gape at me from the lower side of the meadow. A week later he comes back. But I can tell you where it was. We know that the condemned man, at the end, does not resist but submits passively, almost gratefully, to the instruments of his executioner. In the morning my visitor, whose name I didnt quite catch, crawled into his sack and went to sleep. Beyond the Moab valley is more canyon and tableland stretching away to the Blue Mountains fifty miles south. Whose patron saint was an angel called Moroni? Were in for a storm today, dust and sand and filthy air. Although it was still day the new moon could be seen in the slot between the canyon walls, drifting among clouds. The verb greet is also significant, as it conveys the idea that the sun is a human shaking hands with Abbey. Its not natural for a horse to live alone., Hes crazy. After the necessary soporific smoke and a weary conversation we unroll our sleeping bags and go to bed. There is no trail and the many dead and fallen trees make progress difficult. The uranium miner down deep in his burrow was not only inhaling rock dust every minute and working daily with dynamite, his body was absorbing far more than the usual dosage of alpha, beta and gamma rays. But first things first. A big strong man, too. We will not have another opportunity. By Sunday evening most everyone has gone home and the heavy duty is over. Were the inhabitants actually destroyed by the enemies they had always dreaded? The badge gives me the authority to arrest malefactors and evildoers, Floyd explains. Their journey is taken in the final months before its flooding by the Glen Canyon Dam, in which Abbey notes that many of the natural wonders encountered on the journey would be inundated. Angry and loving. This is my first experience with a rubber boat and I discover at once that a single canoe-type paddle is not appropriate. Roy moved his horse stolidly against them, implacable. The bush was in place as before, writhing and glowing but not in fire. I walk among thistles and coarse dying goldenrod (signs of overgrazing) and a kind of sunflower called Five-Nerve Helianthella, knock a few heads off helping to spread the seed and ponder the meaning of my solitude. I rode on. Even the noise I made unscrewing the cap from the canteen seemed harsh and exaggerated, a gross intrusion. At noon he found water. ROCK AND TREE AND CLOUD, THE DEAD MAN AT Now he was hungry. And opened again. The big cottonwood shuddered under the impact, stirred, swung loose and rose, becoming buoyant. Late in the morning, close to noon, the sun comes glowering over the wall in a burst of fire and we are driven out of our sacks. He would wait now for whatever had to happen. Red as tomato soup or blood it came down on me about as fast as a man could run. The lambs, accustomed by tradition to their role, do not complain; and the sheepmen, who run their hooved locusts on the public lands and are heavily subsidized, most of them as hog-rich as they are pigheaded, can easily afford these trifling losses. The racing creek as it soared free over the edge created a continuous turbulence in the air sufficient to keep away all flying insects. A familiar and plaintive admonition; I would like to introduce here an entirely new argument in what has now become a stylized debate: the wilderness should be preserved for political reasons. We go back to the pool and the base of the ridge. The air is hot, clear, dry and our canteens nearly empty; weve taken three hours in the descent. Goddamn son of bitch cow!. Why, we ask ourselves, floating onward in effortless peace deeper into Eden, why not go on like this forever? Softly Easy, easy, dont be scared . Ralph awakes, stirred to life by the aroma of food, takes a bath in the river, combs and pomades his hair, his long black evil sheepherders beard. The heavy rain weve been anticipating fails to come. My boots were floating under the surface of the little puddle above. I went back to see him in the evening but he was gone, leaving behind only a forged signature in the registration book which wouldnt have fooled anybody J. Prometheus Birdsong. Having indulged myself in a number of harsh judgments upon the Park Service, the tourist industry, and the motoring public, I now feel entitled to make some constructive, practical, sensible proposals for the salvation of both parks and people. But I give part of it back April 15th.. Unfortunately, most of the pinyon pines in the area are dead or dying, victims of another kind of pine the porcupine. The jeep came in sight from beyond some bluffs, turned onto the dirt road, and came up the hill toward the entrance station. Like that of the cottonwood, the foliage of the aspen responds to the slightest movement of air even a blow on the trunk with my stick makes the leafy assembly vibrate like bangles. And each pebble, formerly so dull and sun-bleached, now shone like a jewel. A whiptail lizard scurried past my feet. Maya. The April mornings are bright, clear and calm. The survey crew had done their job; I would do mine. Mr. Graham advised Husk that it might be wiser in the long run to return to Flat Rock and redeem his farm rather than risk his (no doubt limited) assets in what would probably be a fruitless search for a fools treasure. The first morning. I drink again, fill my canteen and go on. There the dry lake beds between the parallel mountain ranges fill with planes of hot air which reflect sky and mountains in mirror fashion, creating the illusory lakes of blue water, the inverted mountains, the strange vision of men and animals walking through or upon water Palestinian miracles. Moon-Eye watched me all the time and made no move. If he went that way there wont be much left worth looking for. Investigating the wreckage we found only the broken bodies, the broken bottles, the stain and smell of Tokay, and a couple of cardboard suitcases exploded open and revealing their former owners worldly goods dirty socks, some underwear, a copy of. It is apparent the Abbey adores nature in its purest form. Is this true? All of our furred and feathered and hairy-hided cousins who depend for their existence upon the river and the lower canyons the deer, the beaver, the coyotes, the wildcats and cougars, most of the birds and smaller animals will soon be compelled to find new homes. Now we know: they think about their blood pressure, their bladders, their aortas, their lower intestines, ice on the doorstep, too much sun at noon. On the flat surface of this tilted slab somebody, maybe a Mormon cowboy fifty years ago, maybe an Indian eight hundred years ago, has chiseled two converging grooves which catch some of the falling water and conduct it to a carved spout at the lower edge. I turned my back on the horse and went to the canteen, picked it up. After driving all day from Albuquerque 450 miles I reached Moab after dark in cold, windy, clouded weather. Something about trans-substantiation, con-substantiation and whether or not infants are damned at birth or not until later. For a moment I am shocked by my deed; I stare at the quiet rabbit, his glazed eyes, his blood drying in the dust. A snake or lizard exposed to the noon sun for more than ten minutes would die; having no internal cooling mechanism the reptiles must at all costs avoid extremes of temperature, especially in the desert where the temperature on the surface of the ground is much higher than it is in the air a few feet above. He wasnt listening to me. The mice, singularly quiet for a change, make themselves scarce. The trees are in shadow but above the forest shafts of sunlight fan out across the blue. Beyond that rim the world dropped away at an angle of ninety degrees, down sheer for eight hundred feet or more to a talus of broken slabs in the bottom of a side canyon of the San Rafael canyon. A violent prejudice, doomed to disappointment. I like my job. You wait here, I said, while I go back to Albuquerque and get the book. I had hoped to see the mountains in full glory, all covered with fresh snow, before leaving, but it looks as if the storm will last all night. The population of the Navajo tribe to take the most startling example has increased from approximately 9500 in 1865 to about 90,000 a century later a multiplication almost tenfold in only three generations. Bad weather means that the park entrance road will be impassable; it is part of my job to inform campers and visitors of this danger so that they will have a chance to get out before its too late. [3], Although Abbey rejected the label of nature writing to describe his work, Desert Solitaire was one of a number of influential works which contributed to the popularity and interest in the nature writing genre in the 1960s and 1970s. The Park Service, like any other big organization, includes factions and factions. Labor Day. What I need is a braking device. 7000 feet up now; we put on jackets and hoods as a fine sleet drives down from the sky and turns the dust into mud. People cant tell where to park their cars or which spot is whose you gotta paint lines, numbers, mark out the campsites nice and neat. Viviano took one, I took the other, while Roy stayed with the bunch we already had. From there the land falls away for another fifteen hundred feet or more to the Colorado River. I looked around. The wind is coming from the north, much colder than before we may have sleet or rain or snow or possibly all three before nightfall. About every two weeks Husk and Billy-Joe returned to Moab for fresh supplies and for repairs, parts and sometimes new tires for the truck. This time with a mate. Sand becomes a part of our existence which, like breathing, we take for granted. Or the abandoned articles may have been under a curse, associated with disease and death. As any true patriot would, I urge him to hide down here under the ledge. But then we have seen only a tiny corner of The Maze, maybe no more than one percent of it. He meets the park superintendent and chief ranger. In the desert I am reminded of something quite different the bleak, thin-textured work of men like Berg, Schoenberg, Ernst Krenek, Webern and the American, Elliott Carter. The sun is touching the fretted tablelands on the west. I go on. When a new national park, national monument, national seashore, or whatever it may be called is set up, the various forces of Industrial Tourism, on all levels, immediately expect action meaning specifically a road-building program. Desert solitaire : a season in the wilderness /, Arches National Park. The increase is the indirect result of the white mans medical science as introduced on the Navajo reservation, which greatly reduced the infant mortality rate and thereby made possible such formidable fecundity. Words fail. Newcomb and I meditate upon the red coals of the fire before turning in. There was no sound but the noise of my drinking mount, no sight anywhere of animate life. From the point of view of political geography we are standing on one of the frontiers of human culture; for the man inside the rubber sack it was lands end, the shore of the world. Good man, I thought, heading at once for the nearest shade, where I tied my horse to a log, unsaddled, and dropped. Snow was swirling through the air when I crossed the unfenced line and passed the boundary marker of the park. The work is simple and requires almost no mental effort, a good thing in more ways than one. The automotive combine has almost succeeded in strangling our cities; we need not let it also destroy our national parks. Notice the terminology. The dead mans nephew, excused from this duty, walks far ahead out of earshot. Youll find no deep thinkers at 13,000 feet anyway. (The claims lay far away beyond the rivers, more than a hundred miles by road, including some fifty miles of jeep trail and the last ten miles where there was no road or trail at all.) The pool extended clear across the canyon floor from one sheer wall to the other. He sat down near the truck to rest for a while. Lets get on, boys, he said. 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