Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness

You may or may not know this about me: I adore the national park system. Have been to many of them. Love nature, love hiking, love that we preserve nature for hiking, etc. And that is why I love Edward Abbey. The American west is a strange place. Southern Utah, in particular, looks almost martian in many regards. It is beautiful and hostile in equal parts, and to capture the sublimity of the desert in writing is, I think, an astonishing gift. This book is often straight from Abbey's diaries during his time as a renegade park ranger at Arches, when Arches was just a national monument instead of the park it is today, and HOT DAMN, does he do the area justice. He also mixes in a fair bit of anarchist get-the-fuck-out-of-your-godforsaken-cars-and-walk ranting that really resonates with me. It's sometimes a relief to know that things he strongly advocated for (disallowing camping in Arches, because of how easily sandstone erodes) have come to pass, and sometimes disheartening that other things have gotten worse (I've been stuck in a bona fide traffic jam in Yellowstone, for example). Regardless, southern Utah couldn't have asked for a more eloquent spokesperson. If you haven't seen any scenery so beautiful it stuns you silent, fly out here, I will drive your ass to Moab, and buy you your very own copy of this book.

First read: Desert Solitaire is one of those books that I've seen a million times—
on other people's bookshelves, at gift shops in national parks, at library sales—but that I've never gotten
around to buying or reading.

When it arrived in an armchair travel bookbox and after I recently read
The Secret Life of Cowboys, somehow I was “spurred” toward reading this book.

And these two books (Secret Life and Desert Solitaire), in truth, have a
lot in common: a common setting, the American West, and a common narrator, fellows burned out on life in
the city and itching for, well, something the West has to offer.

Edward Abbey is a surprising guy, happy in his summer job as a ranger
at Arches National Monument in Utah, relaxing in the outdoors, ranting a bit about the encroachment of cars
upon the wilderness, and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, picking up a rock, flinging it at a rabbit, and killing it
(literally). I never knew what this fellow was going to do next. Abbey seemed to be an odd mixture of tree hugger
and Texas good ol' boy (though he was originally from Pennsylvania, he'd have fit right in here). Every page,
every paragraph, is full of Abbey's opinions and philosophizing, but it makes for a good read.
Favorite Quote: (from the Introduction) “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. Here I must confess that I know nothing
whatever about true underlying reality, having never met any.”


Second Read:
A reread. I had to find and read this book for a very silly reason. Here's the story: I found a green hiking hat that I had to buy when I was in Utah. On the hat were three pictures with labels: Zion, Bryce Canyon, and Arches. We went physically to Zion and Bryce while we were in Utah, with no time for other stops, so I had to visit Arches through a book. Thus, Desert Solitaire.

I liked it even better than I did last time. I was surprised to see Abbey as such a rebel; I didn't remember that.


Third Read:

I finished Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey. This was a reread, and it was perfect for my trip this week to Utah. Edward Abbey relates stories from his time working at Arches before it was a national park. He is one of three employees (!) in the late 60's, and visitors were sparse. It was a solitary and rewarding experience for Abbey.