The High Sierra: A Love Story
Book by Kim Stanley Robinson
DETAILS
Publisher : Little, Brown and Company (May 10, 2022) Language : English Hardcover : 560 pages ISBN-10 : 031659301X ISBN-13 : 978-0316593014 Item Weight : 2.36 pounds Dimensions : 7.4 x 1.75 x 9.35 inches Best Sellers Rank: #8,393 in Books (See Top 100 in Books) #4 in Mountain Climbing #28 in Traveler & Explorer Biographies #60 in U.S. State & Local History , A “sublime” and “radically original” exploration of the Sierra Nevadas, the best mountains on Earth for hiking and camping, from New York Times bestselling novelist Kim Stanley Robinson (Bill McKibben, Gary Snyder). Kim Stanley Robinson first ventured into the Sierra Nevada mountains during the summer of 1973. He returned from that encounter a changed man, awed by a landscape that made him feel as if he were simultaneously strolling through an art museum and scrambling on a jungle gym like an energized child. He has returned to the mountains throughout his life—more than a hundred trips—and has gathered a vast store of knowledge about them. The High Sierra is his lavish celebration of this exceptional place and an exploration of what makes this span of mountains one of the most compelling places on Earth. Over the course of a vivid and dramatic narrative, Robinson describes the geological forces that shaped the Sierras and the history of its exploration, going back to the indigenous peoples who made it home and whose traces can still be found today. He celebrates the people whose ideas and actions protected the High Sierra for future generations. He describes uniquely beautiful hikes and the trails to be avoided. Robinson’s own life-altering events, defining relationships, and unforgettable adventures form the narrative’s spine. And he illuminates the human communion with the wild and with the sublime, including the personal growth that only seems to come from time spent outdoors. The High Sierra is a gorgeous, absorbing immersion in a place, born out of a desire to understand and share one of the greatest rapture-inducing experiences our planet offers. Packed with maps, gear advice, more than 100 breathtaking photos, and much more, it will inspire veteran hikers, casual walkers, and travel readers to prepare for a magnificent adventure. Read more
REVIEW
Growing up in Philadelphia, I never saw a real mountain (as opposed to, say, the Poconos) until my first trip west, at 15. I've been drawn to mountains ever since. My PE teachers, who justifiably regarded me as a basket case, would be astonished to hear that I've been trekking up to 16,000 feet for the past 50 years. Now, at 76, my days of wilderness backpacking are apparently over--my knees simply can't take the downgrades any more. But I have a wonderful trove of memories and photographs. Unlike Robinson, I was never a recreational backpacker. All my high-mountain exploits, both in California and in the Andes from Colombia to Tierra del Fuego, have been in the interest of highly-focused scientific research. But like so many backcountry hikers--whatever their motivations--, I have wept with joy at the conclusion of strenuous solo adventures. This engaging, breezily-written book is divided into a large number of short chapters alternating thematically among geology, natural history, human history -- and personal history. It is preadapted to be read in snatches. I would not take such a beautiful book with me into the wilderness--I couldn't bear to trash it, and besides, it's too heavy!--but I can see myself reading snatches by campfire light, just as I read "Nunca Mas," the devastating report on Argentina's "disappeared," in camp in the Patagonian Andes, and "Listening to Prozac" by the shores of the Straits of Magellan. Robinson is a big fan of "granite" (technically, granodiorite), the core material of the Sierra, because it is typically easy to hike on. Symmetrically, he dislikes "roof pendants," the non-granite materials sitting atop some peaks, because they erode in ways that are less favorable for footing. Most of his Sierran experience has been south of the regions (basically from Sonora Pass north) where many of the summits are capped with andesitic or basaltic mudflows (lahars). Those are actually my favorite landscapes, in part because they typically have the prettiest "alpine rock gardens" full of a rich variety of wildflowers. The different substrates have different floras. The penstemon shown on p.156 growing out of bare granite is Mountain Pride, P. newberryi, which prefers granite, tolerates metaseds, and shuns volcanics. Whitney's Locoweed, Astragalus whitneyi (Robinson has a thing about naming anything important after Whitney!), a very distinctive tufted legume with inflated, mottled seed pods, prefers volcanics, tolerates metaseds, and shuns granite altogether. And so on. The photo on p.204 shows mamma on the underside of a thundercloud, illuminated by the setting sun. Mamma are not a peculiarly Sierran phenomenon, but they are so striking that they deserve comment (they are downdrafts filled with cloud made visible as they fall slowly into stable air below; the name comes from a not-altogether-fanciful resemblance to pendulous breasts). Sierran skies are wonderfully changeable, especially just east of the crest where wave clouds are very common. Like others my age, I have a huge backlog of slides probably never-to-be-scanned, alas. Not a few are of lenticular clouds downstream from the crest. My mountain research concerns butterflies. I have not found any reference to the California Tortoiseshell butterfly in the book, but it has provided "life-changing" experiences to many a high-country hiker. It's a seasonal mass migrant, mostly above 9000', and in good years the migrants number in the millions or tens of millions. Eventually they settle down above tree-line and spend late summer doing nothing, "estivating" and conserving energy. At this point hikers stumble upon an enchanted landscape blanketed with countless orange-and-brown butterflies. Usually they think they are Monarchs (they're not! Monarchs almost never go above 7000'). Come mid-September the masses break up and the butterflies disperse downslope individually to find snug places to hibernate. They will not reproduce (in the foothills) until the following March. I will add to Robinson's list (p.355) of very old planted Giant Sequoias outside the US the one near the cathedral in Vezelay, France, which must be one of the oldest in Europe. The cloudy, drizzly climate of Vezelay has served it well, and it was not harmed in the pitched battle fought in its shadow between the Gestapo and the Resistance during WWII. Robinson and I both live in Davis, California, but we have never knowingly met--not at the Farmer's Market nor in the high country. So via this review I thank him for a wonderful book.
DOWNLOAD PAGE
留言列表
