Abbey’s Country

Back in Abbey’s country. Hayduke country. God’s country. With the rocks. The buzzards. Free-flowing water. Clean air to breathe. And silence. Blissful silence.

Unchanged is the word that comes to mind down here—in the wild canyons of southern Utah. Society moves so fast. Here, time stands still. More or less unchanged from the way it was. A few more airplanes in the air. A few more satellites in the night sky. A few more rocks dislodged from the sandstone walls, smashed into the canyon floor. But more or less, unchanged. I find something immensely comforting in that.

Nostalgia. In my 30’s, I had this sense of desperation. I wanted to explore every canyon, every mountaintop, every hidden spring. That kind of energy doesn’t stick around forever. It’s reserved for the youth. I’m changing. It’s inevitable. No better. No worse. Just… different. All I feel now is gratitude—for this life, this time to be alive on Earth.

I have lived.

Damn, what a thing to say. I’ve explored so many of these canyons in my prime. And still doing it at 53. Not done yet! No, my sense of restless ambition for exploration hasn’t subsided completely. A few trips a year to keep the soul pure. A time to remember… this world exists. A factory reset. A reconnection with Mother Earth, and the desert that helped guide me as a human being. My gratitude to her is endless. She gave me Wilderness, The Gateway to the Soul. Nature’s Silent Message. What more could I possibly say about the desert that hasn’t already been said in those two books? Written when the flame inside me was wildly ablaze. I was vulnerable, full of questions that the desert so graciously answered. It’s all in those two books.

But no one wants to read about nostalgia.

We don’t want the past. We want the raw fire of now! That’s what I intend to write about. Will always write about. ‘Til the end of my days. To jolt the reader, and myself, back to the timeless moment. Away from such distractions as clocks, cell phones, news reports, traffic, cubicles, offices, cars, gadgets, neighbors, to-do lists. None of that stuff really matters, does it? City distractions—all of them. And politics? I’d be a fraud if I didn’t mention politics. The whole us-versus-them conundrum. Down here in the canyons, it seems laughable. The only thing that separates us is whether we voted for the idiot on the right, or the idiot on the left.

We’re not so different.

We’re all just trying to get through this overcomplicated thing called life. Give each other a break, would you?

What really unites us? We want freedom, happiness, food to eat, art to ponder, water to drink. A safe place to raise our families. Or to choose not to have a family—and simply wander at will through Abbey’s twisting canyons. Muir’s ranges of light.

What’s really important? Read My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir, Walking It Off by Doug Peacock, Beyond the Wall by Ed Abbey, A Salty Piece of Land by Jimmy Buffett. The point of life is not about money or politics or power or fame. It’s about gratitude—for the incomprehensibly beautiful planet that we get to live on. This country we were born in. And yes, to grow old with a sense of nostalgia.

To look back and be able to say, as Clark W. Griswold did so eloquently at the end of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation:

I did it.

But fear not! Cuz yesterday’s over my shoulder, and I can’t look back for too long. There’s just too much to see waiting in front of me, and I know that I just can’t go wrong. Another quote. Jimmy Buffet, master of escapism. Everything I’ve ever learned has come from songs. And books.

But dammit, I can’t help but feel for our youth. Sitting in their bedrooms, staring at their phones. Distraction is at an all-time high. They are beyond distracted. They’re disillusioned—primarily by lies. They actually believe they can’t make it in this world, which is truly sad beyond words.

The only difference between making it and not making it is mindset. If there’s one thing I can hope to do with my words… it’s to change that mindset. For the young people who already have the fire burning inside of them—the endless reserves of energy, passion, ambition—how I want them to realize that there are canyons to be explored! Mountains to be climbed! Oceans to be sailed! Rivers to be run!

And they don’t need a damn $80K Sprinter van to do it!

My first “earth roamer” was an early model Toyota Corolla, complete with kayaks and bicycles on the roof, backpacking gear in the trunk, a few gallons of gas in the tank (maybe), a few beers in the cooler (hopefully), and a couple cans of Dinty Moore beef stew rolling around in the backseat for dinner.

Ed Abbey explored in his government pickup. Doug Peacock in his Honda Civic (that was constantly overheating). Peter Jenkins walked across America in his blue jeans. And our great hero, John Muir, wandered the mountains of California with a knapsack and a crust of bread (that he was ever gracious for!).

No, kids, you don’t need a trust fund to be an adventurer. Just an adventurous mindset.

And who wouldn’t want to be an explorer? Especially today! Has there ever been a better time to escape society?

My point is… we are put on this Earth to enjoy the natural beauty that exists all around us. Mountains. Deserts. Oceans. Rivers. These things exist naturally. We didn’t build them. They are gifts from the gods.

But we get so easily distracted by money, power, greed, politics, hate, consumerism, lust…

Hogwash—all of it!

I say leave politics to the politicians. Let them fight amongst themselves.

Sneak out the back door, head toward your nearest mountain range or desert canyon, and finally experience some reality! That’s what these backpacking trips do. They allow us to finally experience some real, actual, bona fide reality. Truth! Outside the confines of our human world.

Go see for yourself. Find truth. It’s tucked deep into the hills. It’s out there... Free to anyone who can summon enough energy to walk, bike, hitchhike, or drive a car (any damn car). Just don’t forget to bring a shovel, perhaps a spare tire, some water and food. Perhaps a sleeping bag…

Freedom is alive and well in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Wilderness still exists—at least in the canyons of southern Utah.

But do it while you’re young, folks. Because when you’re old, the ground gets lumpier, the bugs bite harder, the feet get sorer, the knees get achier, the body odor gets stinkier, the backpack gets heavier, the wind blows harder, the rain gets wetter, the cactus needles sharper, the sand sloggier, the hills steeper, the sun stronger.

Do it now, folks, while you can. Before the best things in life do cost money. Then you can splurge on that comfortable chair. That expensive mattress. The guided tour. The scenic vista. The roped-off sea (lifeguard on duty). Then you can get a real job. Perhaps as a greeter at Walmart. A grocery store bagger at Ralphs. Or a bus driver, mailman, liquor store clerk. By then, you’ll be ready for some downtime after all that exploration and adventure.

Don’t worry about tomorrow? Is that really what you’re saying, Scott Stillman?

Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. It’s what I’ve been saying for years. If you are still with me, seven books later, you should know this… loud and clear.

Happy Wanderings,

-Scott