Desert Solitaire - Edward Abbey

I read one of Edward Abbey's books (The Journey Home, I think) years ago, for a History of the American West class in grad school. I enjoyed it well enough, but never got around to reading any of his other books until now.

Desert Solitaire is generally focused around a six-month stint Abbey spent working at the Arches National Monument in southern Utah as a park ranger. The actual work is only briefly touched on. Abbey is much more interested in describing the natural beauty of the desert, it's virtues and value to man, as well as his state of mind while he lives out there.

He spends several chapters describing various trips he takes on his days off. A week-long float trip down Glen Canyon with a friend, this in the days before they dammed it up and created Lake Powell. Another trip with a different friend to explore a series of canyons called The Maze. Those are the most easily enjoyable parts of the book, as Abbey's love and appreciation for the land he's exploring shines through. I don't know if the images I see in my head are at all accurate to what he's describing, but it looks good. It makes me want to just go, away from everything, although I'd head for the prairies rather than the desert.

A good portion of the rest of the book is Abbey grousing about urban expansion, the engineers and their desire to "improve" the wilderness, and what he calls industrial tourism. Those parts are enjoyable in the way watching a person wind themselves up into a good rant can be. Abbey doesn't hate humanity, just certain parts of it. The endless drive to assert control, to expand, to remove all the unusual or unique places, create homogeneity. Maybe it's simply that he sees value in what he considers truly experiencing the outdoors, rather than just viewing it through the window of your car as you drive a paved loop through a park.

'Fear betrays the rabbit to the great horned owl. Fear does the hard work, making the owl's job easy. After a lifetime of dread it is more than likely that the rabbit yields to the owl during that last moment with a sense of gratitude, as pleased to be eaten - finally! - as the owl is to eat. For the one a consummation, for the other fulfillment. How can we speak of natural enemies in such a well-organized system of operations and procedures? All the time, everywhere, someone or something is dying to please.'