My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir
Summary
My First Summer in the Sierra is based upon John Muir’s personal diary, beginning June 3rd, 1869 and ending September 22nd of the same year. During this time he was employed by a sheep owner named Mr. Delaney to assist in herding his flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuolumne rivers. Although he was employed to assist in the sheep herding, he was left mostly to his own devices to explore, investigate the flora, bask in the religious grandeur of the alpine scenery, and document it, all while being accompanied by a St. Bernard named Carlo.
Personal Relation To The Book
After moving from California back home to Minnesota, I found myself soon lamenting the lack of natural beauty and respect commanded by the high sierras. Among other outdoors type books, I was hoping this would assist in scratching my itch for alpine adventure, though, not so surprisingly, it only exacerbated that itch.
One of the things to which I could easily relate was Muir’s interpretation of these vistas as being religious; seemingly literally bringing him closer to god. One thing I have always had a difficult time elucidating to others is the bond one feels with a mountain when they are on it by themselves, in the back country, with no one around. In doing such a thing by oneself, everything is amplified; the emotions of every little noise you hear are heightened, the feeling of accomplishment when summitting is enhanced, the work involved even seems to be greater when one realizes they are the only one that can safely bring themselves out alive. This appeared to be something Muir realized, and in feeling so connected to the landscape, in it’s immense beauty, he was positive that there could not possibly be any more manifest evidence of the existence of God than in the Yosemite valley.
One thing is also evident when reading My First Summer: Muir was a damned crazy man. He longed to climb trees during storms just to experience the storm the way a tree would. To charge at bears to see what they would look like while running; it is somewhat surprising that his natural curiosity didn’t result in his demise. I do find it difficult to believe that this “interview”, as he calls it, actually happened, along with the story of him “feeling” like his old professor friend was in the valley, so he rushed head long down a mountain to realize he was indeed there.
His eloquence in documenting this vastly emotional and religious summer has surely helped advanced his fame; I am curious though, how much time he spent post-processing his manuscripts to achieve the literary beauty we are left with today. One more thing is obvious from this work, and that is Muir loved to be overly didactic when it comes to flora. The book is seemingly bubbling with Muir’s excitement and enthusiasm for the Yosemite valley; appearing to be one of the first of many zealots worshiping the spiritual power of the region.
Favorite Quotes
Now, some of the quotes from the book that were saturated with highlighter:
“We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it, thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun – a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal.”
In speaking regarding the lowly life of a shephard:
“Coming into his dingy hovel-cabin at night, stupidly weary, he finds nothing to balance and level his life with the universe. No, after his dull drag all day after the sheep, he must get his supper… and depends on the genial stupefaction of tobacco for the rest.”
“I have oftentimes found the curious twining lily… Like man, it has few friends, and the blind question, ‘Why was it made?’ goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.”
“Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality.”
“The daylight fades, the color spell is broken, and the forest breathes free in the night breeze beneath the stars.”
In speaking about escaped sheep:
“Having escaped restraint, they were, like some people we know of, afraid of their freedom, did not know what to do with it, and seemed glad to get back into the old familiar bondage.”
“Oh, these vase, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and rest! Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day; whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever.”
“Every morning, arising from the death of sleep, the happy plants and all our fellow animal creatures great and small, and even the rocks, seemed to be shouting, ‘Awake, awake, rejoice, rejoice, come love us and join in our song. Come! Come!’ Looking back through the stillness and romantic enchanting beauty and peace of the camp grove, this June seems the greatest of all the months of my life, the most truly, divinely free, boundless like eternity, immortal. Everything in it seems equally divine – one smooth, pure, wild glow of Heaven’s love, never to be blotted or blurred by anything past or to come.”
“So extravagant is Nature with her choicest treasures, spending plant beauty as she spends sunshine, pouring it forth into land and sea, garden and desert. And so the beauty of lilies falls on angles and men, bears and squirrels, wolves and sheep, birds and bees, but as far as I have seen, man alone, and the animals he tames, destroy these gardens.”
In regards to his encounter with a bear:
“… I thought I should like to see his gait in running, so I made a sudden rush at him, shouting and swinging my hat to frighten him, expecting to see him make haste to get away, But to my dismay he did not run or show any sign of running. On the contrary, he stood his ground ready to fight and defend himself, lowered his head, thrust it forward, and looked sharply and fiercely at me… We stood staring at each other in solemn silence within a dozen yards or thereabouts… How long our awfully strenuous interview lasted, I don’t know; but at length in the slow fullness of time he pulled his huge paws down off the log, and with magnificent deliberation turned and walked leisurely up the meadow…”
“As to our own work, duty, influence, etc., concerning which so much fussy pother is made, it will not fail of its due effect, though, like a lichen on a stone, we keep silent.”
“No wonder the hills and groves were God’s first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches,the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.”
“It seems strange that visitors to Yosemite should be so little influenced by its novel grandeur, as if their eyes were bandaged and their ears stopped. Most of those I saw yesterday were looking down as if wholly unconscious of anything going on about them, while the sublime rocks were trembling with the tones of the mighty chanting congregation of waters gathered from all the mountains round about, making music that might draw angels out of heaven.”