Full of life

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And he answered, “Oh, yes. Always. No concubines. I’ve always been pretty solitary. I still am.” Gouging around the mountains in his free time-and traversing the valley-he would get off his horse here and again, sit down, and think. (“You can’t do geology in a hurry.”) On horseback or on foot-from that summer forward, whenever he was there-he gathered with his eyes and his hammer details of the landscape. If he happened to come to a summit or an overlook with a wide view, he would try to spend as much of a day as possible there, gradually absorbing the country, sensing the control from its concealed and evident structure, wondering-as if it were zakelijke energie vergelijken a formal compositionhow it had been done. (“It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what I’m looking at. Later on, it becomes clear-maybe. And maybe not. You try to put the petals back on the Rower.”) Some of those summits had not been visited before, but almost without exception he did not make a cairn or leave his name. (“I left my name on two peaks. When you’re young and full of life, you do strange things.”) Having no way to know what would or would not yield insight, he noticed almost anything. The mountain asters always faced Past. Boulders were far from the bedrock from which they derived. There was no quartzite in any of the surrounding mountains, but the valley was deeply filled with gold-bearing quartzite boulders. He discovered many faults in the valley floor, and failed for years to discern among them anything close to a logical sequence. There were different episodes of volcanism in two adjacent buttes. From high lookoffs he saw the barbed headwaters of streams that started flowing in one direction and then looped about and went the other waythe sort of action that might be noticed by a person carrying water on a tray. Something must have tilted this tray. From Signal Mountain he looked down at the Snake River close below, locally sluggish and zakelijke energie ponded, with elaborate meanders that had turned into oxbows -the classic appearance of an old river moving through low country. This was scarcely low country, and the Snake was anything but old. Several miles downstream, it took a sharp right, straightened itself out, picked up speed, and turned white. Looking down from Signal Mountain, he also noticed that moose, elk, and deer all drank from one spring just before their time of rut, crowding in, pushing and shoving to get at it (“They honk and holler and carry on”), ignoring the nearby waters of river, swamp, and lake.

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