Beyond the Wall - Edward Abbey

We looked at Abbey's Desert Solitaire about three years ago. This is another collection of essays, originally published elsewhere, but those versions were out of print and prohibitively expensive for the people Abbey wanted to read his work, so he put this out.

Most of the chapters are Abbey trying to describe the appeal of the desert to him, through describing various trips he's spent in it. Not quite a travelogue, as this seems as much about what he felt or thought as it is discussing what's there.

"A Walk in the Desert Hills," details Abbey being dropped off by two friends somewhere in Arizona and hiking alone across over 100 miles to a little town called Bagdad. He talks about the heat, and how different it is in the shade when there's wind, but also how he's never worn these jungle boots on a hike like this and the weight of his supplies is making his feet squish out and crush his pinky toes. "Days and Nights in Old Pariah" is about his attempts to find his way to a long abandoned town, back before the Glen Canyon Dam was built that inundated the entire region.

That particular dam comes up a couple of other times, as Abbey clearly hates what it's done to the Colorado River and the surrounding regions. It's not any use ecologically because the water level fluctuates too much. Either the plants are high and (too) dry, or they're drowned, so no good to wildlife. It's silted and stagnant, and ruins the rafting and buries history and all so people can try to force a place inhospitable to large amounts of people to be otherwise.

There's definitely a certain crankiness to his writing, though he would point out he doesn't dislike all people, only his enemies. He's just indifferent to the majority of humans and would prefer space between him and them. Hence the appeal of the desert. I hew more towards prairies, but I know the feeling.

Which is part of why I like his writing. The descriptions of seeing for miles and there being no one around. Of coming across a dilapidated cabin with a functional windmill to pump water and nosing around. The part about veering off track several miles into the hills to look for a tinaja that he hopes has water in it, that part doesn't appeal, but it makes for a good reminder how difficult a habitat deserts can be, how narrow the margins are to survive.

'Except for the thin track of the road, switchbacking down into the wash a thousand feet below our lookout point, and from there climbing up the other side and disappearing over a huge red blister on the earth's surface, we could see no sign of human life. Nor any sign of any kind of life, except for a few acid-green cottonwoods in the canyon below. In the silence and the heat and the glare we gazed upon a seared wasteland, a sinister and savage desolation. And found it infinitely fascinating.'