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apids was the only sound to break
the stillness. Standing on the shore, I
once more cast line into the stream,
and found the dream to be real and
the fable true. The speckled trout and
silvery roach, like flying fish, sped
swiftly through the moonlight air
That morning the long ascent to the
summit began by pushing up the Aboljacknagesic
stream leaving the bateau tied to a
tree. Moving to the stream’s north side, they
passed through “burnt” lands partially overgrown
with young aspen. Soon the party
was on a ridge with a view of the peak,
which surprised Thoreau with the amount
of naked rock unlike any mountain he had
previously seen. Shortly, they were required
to take a compass bearing and plunge into
the woods or as Thoreau put it, “We were
soon buried in the woods.” By noon a member
of the party climbed a tree to view the
summit, and they were relieved “when it
appeared that we had not swerved from a
right line, the compass down below still
ranging with his arm.”
By four o’clock the weary party decided
to camp, and Thoreau with what
little daylight was left attempted to climb
the mountain alone. Working his way up
a water-filled ravine covered with impenetrable
thickets of scraggly birches and
spruce, he soon cleared the larger trees and
could look back over the falling water still
far from its headwaters. As he continued
the arduous task of moving upward, he
hit the krumholtz “scrambling on all fours
over the tops of ancient black spruce trees
(Abies nigra), old as the flood, from ten or
twelve feet in height. ...” He continued on
or, as he stated, “slumped, scrambled,
rolled, bounced and walked” until he hit
only rock, and the words now are less exalting,
but penetrating with realism: “...
rocks, gray, silent rocks, were the flocks
and herds that pastured, chewing a rocky
cud at sunset. They looked at me with hard
gray eyes, without a bleat or low.” With
time running out and the ascent uncompleted,
he returned to his companions.
The next morning the party made an
effort to reach the summit, but soon
Thoreau left his companions behind as
he climbed alone over the rocks. The
peak was now concealed by mist, and his
thoughts moved to realities at his feet:
“The mountain seemed a vast aggrega-
tion of loose rocks ... the raw materials
of a planet dropped from an unseen
quarry which the vast chemistry of nature
would anon work up, or work down,
into the smiling and verdant plains and
valleys of earth.” Now the juxtaposition
of the mile-high Katahdin, the most
abrupt granite mountain in New England,
to the gentle ridges and valleys of eastern
Massachusetts, was exacting an unforeseen
toll: “It was vast, Titanic, and
such as man never inhabits ... . He is more
alone than you can imagine .... Nature
has got him at disadvantage, caught him
alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine
faculty .... I have never made this
soil for thy feet, this air for thy breathing,
these rocks for thy neighbors.”
Thoreau thought about the fact that
Indians rarely went to the summits of
mountains because they are sacred and
mysterious tracts are never visited.
“Pomola is always angry with those who
climb to the summit of Ktaadn.” Interestingly,
Indians on the West Coast. 3,000
miles away had a similar sentiment. In
1870 Sluiskin, a Yakima hunter, had
guided the first successfully documented
climbers to reach the peak to the base of
Mt. Rainier and warned them not to go
further:”... should you escape these perils
and reach the great snowy dome, then
a bitterly cold and furious tempest will
sweep you off into space like a withered
leaf ...” (National Park Service 1978).
Thoreau definitely was awed by starkness
of granite outcrops, the vast and dark
nature of the coniferous forest. He described
the Maine wilderness as primeval, vast, titanic,
but also the freedom it portended is
precisely why he valued it so, and stated:
“Here prevail no forest laws, but those of
nature,” and “It was the fresh and natural
surface of planet Earth, as it was made forever
and ever.” It was also the most formidable
landscape he would ever experience
and he knew it immediately: “What is this
Titan that has possession of me? Talk of
mysteries! Think of our life in nature—daily
to be shown matter, to come in contact with
it—rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! The
solid earth! The actual/world! The common
sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we?
Where are we?”
Now wilderness, like all mountaineers
know, was bipolar. Gone was the
sweet pine-scented air surrounding Concord
to be replaced by high-altitude harsh
wind on the cheeks. Yet the wild landscape
had the liberating effect of new
knowledge—the Earth held a vastness
previously unknown to him. Perhaps for
Thoreau this liberation and the accompanying
intellectual freedom to view nature
in a totally new context was one of
the germinating seeds that later produced
his lecture statement “In wildness is the
preservation of the earth.”
Knowing that clouds could conceal
the peak until days end, if not for days,
Rainbow Lake Wilderness Area. Chequamegon National Forest, Wisconsin. Photo by Charles O. Mortensen
THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF WILDERNESS Volume 3, Number 4 15