What Would Ed Abbey Do?
I can trace my environmentalism back to my backpacking days with Scott and Paul, where I first truly recognized the beauty and magic of untrammeled wilderness all over the west. From Mt. Rainier to the Grand Canyon, I saw places that were otherworldly and worthy of the protection they received inside of a national park. Reading Edward Abbey’s Down the River while rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon cemented it. Later, I read Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness, written by Abbey during his two seasons as a park ranger in Arches National Park during 1956 and 1957 before Arches had paved roads. Abbey grew up in the east, but fell in love with the west and was a fervent advocate for wilderness protection. In addition to these two books he also wrote the Monkey Wrench Gang, which inspired the formation of Earth First! He described himself as an entertainer, but the motivation for his writing was protection of our vast western wilderness.
“...you can’t see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk...”
Abbey was not a fan of cars in the wilderness. From the Author’s Introduction: “Do not jump into your automobile and rush out to the Canyon country hoping to see some of that which I have attempted to evoke in these pages. In the first place you can’t see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail you’ll see something, maybe. Probably not.”
His advice spoke to me, deeply. I’m naturally inquisitive and I pay attention to what’s around me, particularly when my soul is quenched by being surrounded by nature. I notice things others miss, and I often stop to get a better look. This seems to be, in the words here, a positive attribute. But my attention to details can cause consternation in hiking companions, who’d rather just get going to our destination. This blog is about many things, but one is Following Wonder, the title. In order to follow wonder, you must break from routine, slow down, and pay attention. When Carrie and I traveled to Aruba early in our relationship, we did just that. On one exploration on the east end of the island, we were walking near the surf where a line of jetsam, mostly garbage, threaded along the sand at the high water mark. I saw a flash of blue from the shallow water and stepped over the bottles and other detritus to get a closer look. There were a dozen bright blue fish splashing and seemingly playing in the shallow water. I called her over, and she reluctantly followed me past the line of garbage. And then, we stood transfixed by the surreal, blue fish. It was magical.
“If Delicate Arch has any significance it lies, I will venture, in the power of the odd and unexpected to startle the sense and surprise the mind out of their ruts of habit, to compel us into a reawakened awareness of the wonderful — that which is full of wonder.”
Abbey continues: “In the second place most of what I write about in this book is already gone or going under fast. This is not a travel guide but an elegy. A memorial. You’re holding a tombstone in your hands. A bloody rock. Don’t drop it on your foot—throw it at something big and glassy. What do you have to lose?” I’d been to Arches when I was a teen with my parents on our trip to visit my dad’s Army buddy who lived in the mountains of Colorado. My dad, when he smelled the barn, didn’t stop too often. However, we did make a stop at Double Arch and I remember my awe at such a magnificent natural structure. It was a quick visit but it left a mark on me. My dad was like many automobile-clad travelers, who would rather view things through the car windows, and only stop under duress, usually from his children. At these intermittent stops they rarely venture very far from the parking lot. If you pick a trail, any trail, and walk a quarter mile away from the road the number of people will substantially dwindle. Unless it is a famous Instagram photo location, then all bets are off. Abbey would have despised Instagram. All social media, really.
Double Arch in the twilight
During our visit to Double Arch in the stunning twilight, we stood overlooking the arch and the surrounding desert. A man soon started playing a harmonica, and all the chatter of the people enjoying the magic stopped. His plaintive playing in this transcendent spot bathed in the twilight reflected off the many red rocks was as near to perfect as I’ve experienced. Shortly after another man showed up with his radio controlled 4x4 and proceeded to drive it around the base of the arch. It was a moment that called for a 12-gauge or a big rock. In the end, we just walked away. The memory of that harmonica echoing off these amazing rocks could not be erased by an idiot who didn’t belong here.
On this trip to Arches, I expected some sort of memorial to Ed Abbey. He was still alive when I first visited with my family, but it’s now been more than 30 years since his death. A sign somewhere, or a plaque. Perhaps near the place where his trailer sat. Where did he and his trailer reside? I had no idea other than it was within sight of Balanced Rock. The National Park Service was mum on the topic.
The full aerial image of Abbey’s section of Arches National Monument
Edward Abbey’s residence during his time in Arches, from the 1957 aerial image
I had just finished another reading of Desert Solitaire, and when back at our own trailer that night I researched the location of Abbey’s trailer. The search of the internet turned up almost nothing, but almost nothing is still something. In the desert trails can be faint and hard to follow. Washes look like trails, game trails can lead you astray, and many are not well marked. This clue I’d found was like a one-rock cairn, of almost no use given how many rocks lived in the desert. But in the end it was enough. A grainy aerial photo taken in April of 1957, during Abbey’s time there. 10 blocky pixels representing the trailer. I like to imagine with a higher resolution photo you’d see Abbey standing there near his trailer, flipping off the airplane pilot.
I was able to overlay the satellite image over present day Google Earth, and get a likely location. We’d returned in the evening after the entry tickets were no longer required, and drove to the location near a couple of pit toilets. We wandered off trail into the desert and after 15 minutes of searching found the evidence we were looking for. The metal lid of an underground water storage tank a rusted out galvanized pipe running downhill from the tank to the trailer site. In Desert Solitaire, Abbey tells about the tank getting refilled. There were also a couple of big eyebolts cemented into large rocks. He mentioned communications antenna, perhaps these were to keep the tower secure in the windy environment. One of the eyebolts had some ribbons and things tied into it. Perhaps we were not the first visitors here in search of Abbey’s trailer. Again, it was near sunset so we sat down on the rocks and watched sunset come over the desert valley, with Balanced Rock in the distance. I won’t disclose the location here, but if you want to join for a visit to Arches, and you bring the whisky, I’ll take you there and we’ll have a solemn toast to the man. You’ll have to crawl on your hands and knees over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus, of course.
