Hard to compete with Jason's review, so go read that one at http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/.... He's dead on about everything, especially the phHard to compete with Jason's review, so go read that one at http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/.... He's dead on about everything, especially the photographs which are astounding.
I remain astonished at the things people will do. This has to be far worse than climbing mountains, because you are basically doing exactly the same thing except it's in the dark and once you have achieved your goal going down you have to survive coming back up.
A quote to whet your appetite: Needing to relieve himself one night, Broad crept to the platform’s edge and let fly into the stream below. To conserve carbide and batteries, he left his lights off and edged cautiously back to his hammock in the dark. Thinking he had arrived, he sat down, but his dead reckoning was off. The hammock spun and tossed him out. His head smashed into the cave’s jagged wall. Stunned, flailing, he fell off the platform. In a move straight out of an Indiana Jones movie, he managed to grab one of the ropes on which the portaledge hung from the cave wall. Dangling there in the dark by one arm over the water ten feet below, Broad screamed for help, but the waterfall’s roar drowned out his cries. With his grip loosening, Broad realized that he would have to save himself, and quickly, or fall and be swept away into the void. He began swinging back and forth, waving his free hand around in the dark, and by sheer chance grabbed one of the other ropes from which the platform hung. With the last of his strength Broad dragged himself back up and flopped onto his belly, gasping and shaking, dizzy with pain, stunned by the fact that he had almost died in this supercave, not from diving but from falling out of bed....more
As someone hopelessly smitten by the "wanderlust" virus, I am more than sympathetic to Americans' peripatetic impulses: the "grass is greener" syndromAs someone hopelessly smitten by the "wanderlust" virus, I am more than sympathetic to Americans' peripatetic impulses: the "grass is greener" syndrome , if you will. The desire to escape current and mundane responsibilities and see new places is ingrained in the American spirit. The automobile is like crack to a traveler providing freedom and unlimited possibilities.
The car became an escape from modernity, represented by the railroad, and modern industrial society uses sightseeing (the author quotes sociologist Daen MaCannell) to turn artifacts of the industrial revolution "into tourist attractions. . . In Williamsburg, Rockefeller oil money pre3serves colonial candleworks; in New Mexico, government billboards direct motorists to Indian ruins. Such exhibits protect modernity in two ways: by confirming the optimist's belief in progress and the pessimist with the unattainable past."
It's ironic that trains, symbol of modernity, were viewed in many respects the same way we view airplanes today: too fast, no way to stop and stretch one's legs, unnatural, can't see the countryside except in a very limited way, claustrophobic, etc. There was a nostalgia for being closer to nature (you know mosquitoes, ticks, sunburn, sweat, stuff like that.) Motoring in the early 20th century was best with difficulty: flat tires, breakdowns, lousy roads, lots of mud after it rained and often washed out bridges. Hotels along the way often required dress codes and motorists who arrived covered in dust and grime from the way, were looked down on. These difficulties were considered a positive by many. "Ordeal was considered an escape from luxury." and "we grow weary of our luxuries and conveniences," were prevailing justifications for hardship. But as Emily Post said, "ordeal was good for character." (Such bullshit.)...more
Several years ago, I read a wonderful book entitled Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. It became somewhat of a cult classic aSeveral years ago, I read a wonderful book entitled Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. It became somewhat of a cult classic and while ostensibly the peregrinations of a father and his son, was as much a philosophical meditation on what constitutes quality.
Driver: Six Weeks in an Eighteen-Wheeler by Phillip Wilson reminds me of that earlier book. Wilson, after numerous other careers, decided in his late forties that he'd like to become an over-the-road truck driver. This book is a quasi diary of the six week training period when he is paired with a driver who supposedly has more experience to learn the ropes. The company they work for is a good one, emphasizing safety and it's clear that Wilson has been trained well. One harrowing scene describes the instructor, referred to in the book as Trainer, takes the load 40-ton truck down a steep hill, realizing too late that he has picked the wrong gear. Wilson had warned him at the top that he was doing it wrong. Trainer stands on the brakes, Wilson watching the trailer brakes sending up clouds of smoke in the rear view mirror, fearing death is imminent. They make it down safely, only just, bail out of the cab fearing a fire; fortunately none occurs, but now they are faced with calling the company and requesting a repair to fix brake sets that are now seriously dangerous. Trainer makes a bad decision regarding the call. Wilson uses examples like this to muse on death, life, and recklessness.
I love Wilson's combination of detailed descriptions of how the trucks work, the minutiae of driving one of those rigs, the dangers and the satisfactions, and he has just the right combination of personal musings and philosophy and trip detail. Ultimately, it's a book about quality and interpersonal relationships, much like Pirsig's book....more
“If anyone could figure out how to steal Italy, Alaska would be the place to hid it." What a vivid way to describe Alaska's immensity. 'There has been“If anyone could figure out how to steal Italy, Alaska would be the place to hid it." What a vivid way to describe Alaska's immensity. 'There has been a host of excellent books on Alaska. My favorite until recently was Joe McGinnis's Going to Extremes but John McPhee's Coming Into the Country is wonderful, too. McPhee's book is divided into three parts: first an exploration of wilderness described during the course of a canoe/kayak trip down the Salmon River. Much in the manner of the river, his descriptions meander into all sorts of eddies and whirlpools. His description of bush pilots is priceless. On one occasion he is flying (a regularly scheduled airline, mind you) in a single engine plane in horrible weather. The pilot is skimming the trees to find landmarks because he can't see anything. He has a map on his lap, but suddenly hands it to a passenger to help figure out where they are. "I had been chewing gum so vigorously that the hinges of my jaws would ache for two days." Stumbling on a grizzly bear in a blueberry patch (fortunately upwind), he muses on the best way to survive a grizzly's charge - no consensus of opinion, but most survivors believe the best thing to do is stand absolutely still and shout as loudly as possible, for that is the least likely reaction the bear, which does not have good sight, would expect of game. Running away is useless for grizzlies are very fast. They are also quite coordinated. They enjoy schussing down snow-covered mountains at 96 feet/second through trees and around boulders only to screech to a stop, stand up and walk away, just before going -over the edge of a cliff. The second part of the book discusses the Alaskan government's search for a new capital and the conflict that generated. Juneau really makes a lousy site because of its remoteness, not to mention its horrible landing approach to the airport. Alaska attracts very independent and anti-authoritarian types of people so it witnesses a battle between those suffering from the "Sierra Club Syndrome" or others fondly embracing the "Dallas Scenario." Many of these folks are affectionately profiled in the third section. John Cook, for example, has consciously tried to eliminate the need for money and authority. He tries to live on $1,500 a year (this was written in the mid seventies); he has a series of trap lines and rarely uses a parka, even at -30'. The closest town is Eagle, about 30 miles away via dog sled, with a population of about 100. Almost all live by the ut restrictions on code, "Never put restrictions on any individual.... Up here they ain't gettin' you for spittin' on the sidewalk." Ironically, most moved there for the space, yet land is less available (as of 1977) than in the lower '48 because when Alaska became a state deals were made with the native Americans and the federal government to set aside almost the entire state as either a reservation or park land. Whereas before statehood someone could build a cabin 80 miles from nowhere, now a government helicopter might fly over and throw them out. Homesteading no longer exists, but in Alaska that loss seems especially poignant in territory where you might have to fly somewhere to take a shower.
Among the first inventions of the Chinese were such things as toilet paper (they were enamored with paper and in fact invented a paper armor consistinAmong the first inventions of the Chinese were such things as toilet paper (they were enamored with paper and in fact invented a paper armor consisting of pleats which were impervious to arrows), the spinning wheel, seismograph, steam engine (as early as 600 A.D.) and parachute hang gliders in 550-559 B.C. which they tested by throwing prisoners off towers. This same country, according to Paul Theroux in Riding the Iron Rooster, is driving many animals to extinction. The Chinese like to eat strange foods and are superstitious about the medicinal value of exotic animals who achieve status not from individual beauty or from intrinsic qualities, but because they taste good.
Theroux, who has a passion for trains, wandering, and gossip, found many changes in China since his first visit of several years earlier. People were much freer and willing to talk. Theroux's writing is fascinating because he's so nosy. He's not afraid to ask anything. And he notices everything. It's his way of "getting the measure of a place." If he sees someone reading he makes note of the title, memorizes the contents of refrigerators, labels in clothes, compares prices, copies graffiti and slogans, and collects hotel rules. My favorite: "Guests may not perform urination in sink basin."
At one point he was forced to fly to catch a particular train and his description is particularly revolting; people standing in the aisles while landing, puking, the plane popping wheelies on the runway, the aircraft itself having wrinkled skin. The cultural revolution was uniformly hated by everyone he spoke with and the change in the people could be measured by the change in their slogans. Formerly when students were asked what they wanted to do with themselves they would reply, "to serve people." A book filled with interesting tidbits.
I should note, as an avid reader of Airways magazine that airlines in China have improved tremendously, have terrific equipment today, and service standards far exceeding United's. Theroux's book is quite dated in that respect....more
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