After reading No Walk in The Park, I thought a more apt title might be "Meanderings of a Grand Canyon River Guide." Sometimes by boat, often on foot, Michael Engelhard—anthropologist and wilderness/river guide—wanders over the Colorado Plateau country in search of "thrills, eco-wisdom and legacies." In easy-to-reach places as well as in the "back of beyond," he finds all three. And though he meanders, his curiosity sets his compass.
On the water or on the trail, he encounters jaw-dropping natural beauty, as well as environmental and cultural damage. Throughout No Walk in the Park, Engelhard pauses, ponders, and takes stock. His prose displays a keen eye for detail, deep knowledge of the places he searches out, a self-effacing sense of humor and at times, a sharp dose of Edward Abby, the curmudgeon/eco-warrior/preacher.
Sixteen essays, ranging in length from a few pages to twenty or more, make up the content of Engelhard's various journeys. Some accounts are tourist-like day-tripping; other tales tell of longer, more arduous efforts. It is the kind of book that you can pick up, choose a title that sparks your interest, and dive in.
Being an ex-river guide, I gravitated towards Engelhard's river (and Lake Powell) essays first. On a day trip to a reservoir near Winslow, Ariz., Engelhard and his wife paddle their pack rafts up lake, and find sanctuary from crowded Lake Powell. Petroglyphs, grebes, swallows, sweet silence and a lack of other paddlers prove good medicine for any waterman or woman. Another essay finds him paddling his ducky on the Little Colorado below the Grand Falls. A three-day trip in Cataract Canyon rowing "catboats" offers an amusing peak into guiding culture. On each of these trips, we learn the deeper history of Native Americans.
In "The Last Fifteen Miles," Engelhard takes the reader into Abby's "heart of darkness," a place the former has studiously avoided for many years - Glen Canyon dam. A pilgrimage of sorts. A tour of the dam (the belly of the beast?)) leaves Engelhard vexed at the tour guide's one-dimensional history of the dam. And also sad. He hikes down to the Colorado and launches his pack raft on an 18-mile float to Lee's Ferry, a welcome respite from the tour guide's well-intentioned, but short-sighted spiel.
We live in unsettled, disheartening times, and perhaps my favorite essay was "A Classroom with a View." Here Engelhard shines a spotlight on the work Grand Canyon Youth does with teenagers from disadvantaged backgrounds. Their classroom, of course, is the Grand Canyon; their teachers are river guides, scientists and local volunteers. GCY's mission is to introduce the next generation to the opportunity to experience wonder and natural beauty on an epic scale as well as encouraging scientific curiosity, a sense of community and looking after Mother Earth. Row the boat, run the rapids, unload the boat, take your turn at camp chores, share your stories, ponder, laugh and, yes, play. Most of the young participants come away with a smile on their face.
The majority of the remaining essays chronicle Engelhard's numerous treks in and around Grand Canyon. The history of the places he visits is woven seamlessly into his personal narratives, so readers gain context and depth. There is a cross-country ski trek to Shoshoni Point (South Rim) in two-feet of freshly-fallen snow; another essay chronicles a hike down the Bright Angel trail at night in an effort to beat the crowds and mind-numbing heat. Engelhard's attempt to complete a transit (along the North Rim) from Lees Ferry to Pierce Ferry fails, but the author bravely allows us a peak into his inner life when things go south with a hiking partner. My only quibble would be Engelhard's failure to mention Kenton Grua's successful transit in 1977, the first to do so. Then again, Grua rarely mentioned the feat to anyone.
As he meanders, Engelhard encounters individuals as smitten with Canyon country as he is. There is a "recreational" archeologist, a "dark sky" advocate/land artist and a rancher who is the unlikely custodian of a treasure trove of rock art on his 5,000-acre ranch. Engelhard recalls the tales of Canyon legends John Riffey, the "last Lone Ranger," and Harvey Butchart, hiker extraordinaire. Once again, Engelhard weaves the deep history of the native tribes of canyon country into the narrative tapestry of his search for "eco-wisdom." Away from the Canyon, we follow Engelhard's footsteps to Rainbow Bridge, down the Paria River, and on the Arizona Strip, each a worthy journey with a knowledgeable companion.
Engelhard's prose is richly evocative, even poetic. Just as the author often stops to reflect on the "big picture," as well as William Blake's "a world in a grain of sand," the reader might well do the same—pause to savor a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph, or an entire essay. If you like to meander, explore, and be surprised by what you find, you will not be disappointed with No Walk in The Park.
