Book 12 - Bill Bryson, A Walk In The Woods

The last book was a memoir of personal recovery and how a hike along the Pacific Crest Trail enabled a young girl reconnect with who she had once been and find the strength to grow into who she wanted to become. This book couldn’t be more different in tone and intent, even if it is about a similarly long through-hike of the East Coast equivalent: the Appalachian Trail. Bill Bryson started his adventure from the place Cheryl Strayed wanted to arrive. He was already a successful author, and settled in his life. As far as we know he had no great demons to face down in the wild, no need for a long physical challenge in order to find his centre. One of the walks was a slightly desperate throw of the dice, the other more of a whim, probably with a book in mind. You might not find much personal redemption in Bryson but there is more humour and information about his surroundings.

I honestly do not know what I can write here that will add anything to what is already known about Bill Bryson and his books. He is an institution. An author used a a reference point in the quotes on the cover of other books; someone who defines his own category. He writes about places or things with humour and although he seems to place himself in the centre of the story, deep down it is not really about him. The narrative might be about his actions and reactions but he doesn’t go deep in his own psyche. He is more interested in what he sees (which is as it should be). I find it confusing when he is described as a humorist; yes he can be funny but he also does his research and is informative. It’s a neat trick: as a reader you learn stuff whilst being amused. It’s what keeps you going and what sets him apart. He has great skill in presenting information, which in other hands could be dry, and make it come alive. Take for example this about trees:

For all its mass, a tree is a remarkably delicate thing. All of its internal life exists within three paper thin layers of tissue, the phloem, xylem, and cambium, just beneath the bark, which together form a moist sleeve around the dead heartwood. However tall it grows, a tree is just a few pounds of living cells thinly spread between roots and leaves. These diligent layers of cells perform all the intricate science and engineering needed to keep a tree alive, and the efficiency with which they do this is one of the wonders of life. Without noise or fuss, every tree in the forest lifts massive volumes of water - several hundred gallons in the case of a large tree on a hot day - from its roots to its leaves. Imagine the din and commotion, the clutter of machinery, that would be needed for a fire department to raise a similar volume of water to that of a single tree. And lifting water is just one of the many jobs that phloem, xylem, and cambium perform

I will never look at trees in the same way again.

But Bryson can also be a bit spiky. His contempt for the National Park Service, which maintains the trail, is a recurring theme.

Here in the Smokies, not far from where Katz and I now trod, the Park Service in 1957 decided to ‘reclaim’ Abrams Creek, a tributary of the Little Tennessee River, for rainbow trout. To that end, biologists dumped extravagant quantities of a poison called rotenone into 15 miles of creek. Within hours, tens of thousands of dead fish were floating on the surface like autumn leaves - what a proud moment that must be for a trained naturalist. Among the 31 species of Abrams Creek fish that were wiped out was one called smoky madam, which scientists had never seen before. Thus the Park Service biologists managed the wonderfully unusual accomplishment of discovering and eradicating a new species of fish in the same instant.

The payoff at the end might be wonderfully ironic but it is the “what a proud moment that must be for a trained naturalist” that is really cutting (especially with the substitution of naturalist for biologist).

I came away from this book with an increased appreciation of the skill with which Bryson puts his books together and the craftsmanship of his writing. It makes an interesting comparison with Wild, in the one I was deeply impressed by the story, in the other by the way the story was told.

Date of first publication
1997

Link to last book

This is pretty obvious. The Appalachian Trail is the east coast equivalent of the Pacific Crest Trail so the two books make an interesting comparison, especially as both the walks must have happened at roughly the same time. Although Wild was published only a couple of years ago and A Walk in the Woods dates from 1997, Strayed started her walk in 1995.

Book 11 - Cheryl Strayed, Wild:a journey from lost to found

Wild starts dramatically when, 38 days into her trek along the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed knocks one of her boots down a steep mountain slope into the forest canopy below. In shock and anger she throws the other one after it. “What is one boot without the other boot? It is nothing. It is useless, an orphan forevermore and I could take no mercy on it.”

At that point, only a couple of paragraphs in, I worried. “Orphan?” You cannot call the remaining boot an orphan - it makes no sense. Things did not look good; could I trust the writer not to over write? But breathe in - relax - let go of hasty judgements - don’t let the grumpy old man out of his box. All you have to do is read one word after another to see how far you will get - just like going for a walk. In the end I was glad I did as I finished the book with enthusiasm. I’m a sucker for stories of redemption and this is good because it focusses on one event: a journey of courage and endurance; a period of withdrawal from normal life, which allowed wounds to heal and a life to be reset.

When she made the journey Strayed was 26 and it had been 4 years since her mother died. The use of orphan to describe the boot was a link to herself. After her mother died she had drifted around, useless, unable to keep the remaining family (two siblings and a step dad) together, pushing away her husband so they divorced, falling into using heroin. It had become unbearable. By chance she saw a book on the Pacific Crest Trail, something she was unaware of, and something grabbed her imagination. Her subconscious was telling her what she needed. Without ever having backpacked before (as opposed to day hikes) she decided this was something she had to do. It might have seemed remarkably foolhardy but from where she was what was there to lose?

The story of her preparedness, is nuanced. It is easy to get the impression she was clueless but this is not the case, it is just that before doing it she did not know all of what would be involved. She was not an urban softie who thought it sounded like a neat idea she could do on a whim. She had been bought up in the countryside and knew the outdoors. She also had the guide to the trail and thoroughly planned her route and what would be involved, to the extent that she prepared supply boxes and gave them to a friend to post to various pick-up points along the way. It was not a matter of waking up one summer morning and wandering off - if nothing else she had to work hard to save money from her waitressing job. It was a thought out plan. On the other hand she had not been on a backpacking trip where you have to carry everything with you and what that would mean in terms of strength and speed. The book is about how she coped with that and learnt to know what she was doing. Just by carrying on she became more able to carry on.

It is not a book about how to walk a long distance trail, though you will learn quite a lot from it (especially the need to pack as light as possible!). It is really about how it is possible to do something because you feel you have no alternative and that you simply must, even though it might be overwhelming. In the motel, at the very beginning of the walk, she packed her bag for the very first time and found that she could not lift it to sling it over her shoulders; she had to crawl into it and lever herself upright. She then wondered how she was going to walk for a hundred days with that load but that did not stop her. She walked out of the room and began - because there was no other way.Once you are in the wilderness there is no other way. You have to go on. You have only your own physical reserves and the pace you can walk. There are on other aids and if you are alone there is none else you can turn to in tight moments. You must find extra resources from within. This she did and the reward at the end was knowing she had those resources.

One of the reasons I like the book is that it is not overwritten (as I thought it might be at the beginning). It is well written and it doesn’t make too many claims for the transformative effects of what happened (though the transformations are there). She does not say she became a new person, or was reborn, instead it is more about finding the person she was before she became lost after her mother’s death. I was worried that it might be a bit New Agey but it is not,  though there are a couple of New Agey encounters. This is good, I like my literature to keep in touch with the earth even if the subject is essentially emotional. It may overtly be about walking but really it is about walking as a way into emotional truth. As she said to one of the people she met:

“Thank you for all your help with lightening my pack” I said to Albert when we had a moment alone before he departed. He looked wanly up at me from his bed on the tarp. “I couldn’t have done it myself.”
He gave me a weak smile and nodded [Albert was suffering with a stomach bug during this encounter]  “By the way” I said “I wanted to tell you - about why I decided to hike the PCT? I got divorced, and also about four years ago my mom died - she was only 45  and she got cancer suddenly and died. It’s been a hard time in my life and I’ve sort of gotten off track. So I …” He opened his eyes wider, looking at me. “I thought it would help me to find my centre, to come out here.” I made a crumpled gesture with my hans, out of words, a bit surprised that I’d let so many tumble out.
“Well, you've got your bearings now, haven’t you? he said, and sat up, his face lighting up despite his nausea.

That is also something that should be mentioned about this story. It is not just about her being alone and finding herself. She met many wonderful people who offered help and support. It is a story about decency.

But back to the beginning and that boot. The scene is true and a tease. True because it happened and she had to walk for a stretch in tapped up sandals but also a tease because the boot loss was not absolute. The boots were had been too small and messed up her feet. Other people had told  her her they were too small but her thinking was that she couldn’t do anything about it because she didn’t have the money, until someone told her that the shop she bought them from, REI, had a total satisfaction guarantee, and if the boot were wrong they would change them. They actually mailed her, free of charge,  a new pair, a size bigger, which she picked up later. A little amazing story, within the bigger amazing story and a reason, perhaps, why the boots deserved to become a character in their own right.

Date first published
2012

Link to last book

Professional cycling, among other things, is about long distance endurance and the will to carry on. This is another take on that spirit from someone who is not an exceptional athlete.