What to Read Next: Outdoor (Mis)Adventures
What to Read Next: Outdoor (Mis)Adventures
Issue #345, featuring Edward Abbey and Kevin Fedarko
Happy Friday, readers!
This week I’m featuring a couple of non-fiction narratives highlighting outdoors (mis)adventures in the American Southwest. Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire is a classic of the region, while Kevin Fedarko’s A Walk in the Park is a new addition to that canon. I enjoyed both and they take a somewhat similar approach in their philosophy of outdoor recreation.
Let’s get right to it.
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey
Edward Abbey’s 1968 Desert Solitaire has been on my TBR since my wife and I first visited Utah a dozen years ago. This year’s spring break road trip through southern Utah and northern Arizona served as the perfect excuse to finally give it a listen. (It was also our book club read for March. Win-win.)
This was one of those magical scenarios where our experiences and surroundings while listening perfectly complemented the book itself. Before jumping into Abbey’s trademark no-nonsense style, we had no idea that our trip would track a large percentage of where Abbey himself traveled throughout the book: Arches and Canyonlands National Parks; Bears Ears, Natural Bridges, and Navajo National Monuments; Glen Canyon Rec Area.
If you haven’t read the book yet and are expecting a happy-go-lucky nature memoir, think again. Abbey is crusty, cranky, sexist, ableist, and generally unwilling to share his wilderness with anyone. There were definitely cringe-worthy moments.
But at the same time: Abbey’s vivid descriptions of the wilderness — in all its wild, ungovernable, untamable, violent beauty — made us even more appreciative of the otherworldly landscapes of southern Utah.
Plus, whether you agree with Abbey’s ideas or angrily yell at him through the pages (there’s assuredly a bit of both), he espouses some very interesting and thought-provoking notions about the commercialization of America’s natural beauty.
Desert Solitaire was quite polarizing with our book club, but Jane and I both gave it four stars — some of which was definitely because the book so perfectly matched our road trip itinerary. Anyone with a love of nature and the American West should give it a read.
A Walk in the Park by Kevin Fedarko
Before reading this, I had no idea how grueling and rare of a feat it was to through-hike the 700-mile length of the Grand Canyon. In my mind, you’d simply stick to the bottom of the canyon, mostly in the early morning or evening hours, and trot along flat ground until you reached the other end. Tough, sure, but no comparison to the thousands of miles that make up the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trail.
And yet, after just a few chapters, Kevin Fedarko is rather convincing that there’s no tougher or stupider through-hike to attempt than the grandest of all the canyons. In fact, only a dozen people are certified as completing it in a single push.
Heat, bugs, lack of water, deadly cliffs, inconsistent maps, and deadly weather events all serve to make it truly a fool’s errand.
Luckily for readers, though unlikely for them, Kevin Fedarko and hiking pal/photographer Peter McBride decided to make the trek and write about it. From start to finish, it’s a wild, head-shaking expedition to follow along with.
I most appreciated Fedarko’s approach to their grand adventure. He conveyed a deep sense of internal conflict rarely found in the genre. From their paths over indigenous lands, to the genuine safety concerns of their trek, to the commercialization and future of our beautiful national parks (in which Abbey’s ideas get a few mentions), A Walk in the Park is a deeply reflective narrative that goes beyond the pair’s trail mileage.
I definitely recommend this book if you’re a reader who enjoys outdoors and nature stories.
Thanks so much for reading. I deeply appreciate your time and attention.
-Jeremy
I read Desert Solitaire before a two week trip through the Southwest. His descriptions of the landscape are stunning. I believe that Abbey was prescient in his thoughts about limiting human activity in our parks. They are incredibly overrun with visitors which detracts from everyone’s enjoyment of the places. I will be visiting Carlsbad Caverns later this month. I had to get a timed entry ticket just to enter the park. We are “loving” them to death.
I was just talking yesterday with my husband about Desert Solitaire, which I read last summer. I loved, LOVED it, and loved how utterly fearless Abbey was in expressing himself. My commonplace is full of this wonderful, infuriating book. Like:
"Through half-closed eyes, for the light would otherwise be overpowering, I consider the tree, the lonely cloud, the sandstone bedrock of this part of the world and pray--in my fashion--for a vision of truth. I listen to signals from the sun--but that distant music is too high and pure for the human ear. I gaze at the tree and receive no response. I scrape my bare feet against the sand and rock under the table and am comforted by their solidity and resistance. I look at the cloud."
I WANT THAT SO BADLY and the times in my life when I have been able to have just a smidgen of that I am so deeply, deeply happy.
Then there are infamous bits like
"What about children? What about the aged and infirm? Frankly, we need waste little sympathy on these two pressure groups."
Oh, Ed...
I really look forward to reading the other one you mention. Shortly after Desert Solitaire I read Grand Ambition, about the newlyweds who tried to honeymoon down the Colorado through the Canyon in 1928 and, spoiler alert, didn't make it. It's a good rendering of the tale and I enjoyed reading both that and Solitaire with Google Maps at hand in order to picture the locations. It's a tremendously captivating part of the world.